


Tyrelliot One Shots

by LovelyLanden



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: BoyxBoy, Gay, M/M, One Shot, shit gets gay real quick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2020-06-23 14:53:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19703665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyLanden/pseuds/LovelyLanden
Summary: Tyrelliot one shots because I seem to have read all the ones that are currently out there. Time to make my own.





	1. Bonsoir, Elliot

Tyrell was nearly pouting and Elliot couldn’t help the warmth that spread through his chest at the sight of it. “What?” He hisses, hostile, too hostile, maybe but doesn’t feel bad when the CTO recoils slightly at the tone.

“You said…” Tyrell begins eventually, fiddling with the cuff links at the end of his suit sleeves. “You said that if you were ever going to experiment, it was going to be with _me,”_

Elliot’s eyes widen and he takes a step back, not quite believing this. _Shit. Did I really say that?_ Elliot wonders. _What should I say now? Did I tell him that? Fuck. Friend, are you still there? Do you know something I don’t? Was it me who said that? Or was it Mr. Robot? Or had neither of us said it at all? Tyrell was lying. He had to be._

“I never said that—“ Elliot says finally, fists clenched at his sides.

“It was implied—“

“Yeah,” Elliot snaps. _"By you,"_ He was fed up now, angered, even and his healing knuckles split open as he unclenches his hands, then balls them back up and Tyrell watches him with a sort of uncanny interest that makes his skin crawl. Wellick was taking him in, analyzing him and Elliot knew he needed to get out of here. Take the subway back home and then… what? What could he do to fix this?

“I need to get going,” He says eventually, voice unnaturally even.

“Elliot, wait,” Tyrell murmurs, voice barely above a whisper and the gentleness of it makes him hesitate.

“What do you want from me?” Elliot asks hotly and watches Tyrell stammer, searching for the right words. “Because if you don’t know what you want, I’m out,” Elliot turns his back to him, hood pulled over his face and walks out of the arcade with muddled thoughts, hoping the subway home would help him sort things out.

Elliot wouldn’t go to Mr. Robot for help. He would laugh, taunt him and Elliot wouldn’t put up with that. Maybe he didn’t need help at all. Maybe he could handle this on his own.

He feels eyes burning holes on his back and Elliot takes a quick look behind him as he makes it down to the subway only to find two men in dark suits following after him. He picks up his pace, heart racing in his throat and slips through the closing door of the train before they have a chance to catch up to him.

Elliot lets off a sigh of relief and settles down in his seat, head in his hands. What was this? What sort of stunt was Tyrell trying to pull? Was he trying to distract Elliot from undoing the hack? No, he didn’t know about that yet. Did he really just want to engage with him or was there something more?

He shakes himself out, sitting up straight and no longer allows his mind to wander. All this was was a distraction, something to get Elliot off his game and he wouldn’t allow it. When he arrives home, he heads to his bedroom, treats himself to a line or two and settles back on the mattress. His thoughts speed up before disappearing completely and Elliot lets off a sigh of relief at the numbness, the quiet of his brain.

He gets up as soon as his eyelids become heavy. He couldn’t fall asleep now. There was something he needed to do first. Elliot heads to the living room, surveying the floor, dirtied by whoever had broken in and grabs the blank CD from where it had slid across the hardwood.

This was it: the CD Mr. Robot had burned the keys onto, the thing Elliot had been looking for all along. He would find the c data and the algorithm to undo the hack embedded into one of the photos on the drive and then… then he could regenerate the keys used to hack into E-Corp’s data and it would be like 5/9 never happened.

His fingers work quickly, going through all the steps Mr. Robot had walked him through that morning and with a final deep breath, presses enter and watches all the destruction he caused finally disappear. His heart races in his chest as he watched the screen, watched the data regenerate knowing that tomorrow morning, this would all be fixed. His job was finally done. He does a full wipe down on his computer, destroys the SIM cards, drills holes in the hard drive until there’s nothing left and only then does he feel completely at peace with himself.

Elliot somehow finds his way to bed and as he lays back above the sheets, hands behind his head and mind swimming, he feels a sense of burning pride he had never felt before. It was over. 5/9 was no longer something he could blame himself for.

As the night drags on, Elliot knows sleep would be close to impossible. He thinks back to what had happened at the arcade with Tyrell, hoped desperately that this was a dream. He knew it was wishful thinking, that despite often being unable to decipher delusions from reality, he was wide awake and that this was real.

Tyrell felt… something for him and Elliot wasn’t sure how to take it. He wasn’t used to this. This… experimenting, this… uncharted territory. Being with women was all Elliot knew but being with a man? It wasn’t something he often pondered.

Tomorrow would be better, he hoped; hoped that Tyrell would leave him be, that if he ignored him well enough that this would cease to exist. All he wanted now was to see Darlene, tell her what he had done and celebrate but at such a late hour knew she was crashed out who knows where. He would leave it for tomorrow, would tell her and the rest of them then. For now, he needed sleep and hoped it would come to him soon.

***

The knock on his door the next morning is strong enough to rattle in it’s frame. Elliot’s eyes snap open and he rushes out of bed, toward the front door and takes a hesitant look out of the peephole. He fights back a groan when he sees Tyrell standing in the doorway and sighs lowly before mussing up his hair and opening the door.

“You didn’t need to wake me up,” Elliot mutters with annoyance as he looks Tyrell up and down. “Was there something you needed?”

“I wanted to talk about last night,” Tyrell admits and Elliot can’t keep from groaning this time.

“So early in the morning?” He says, frustrated.

“It’s almost noon,” Tyrell says with a hint of a smile and Elliot is the one pouting now.

“I had a long night,” Elliot mutters, running his hands through his hair. The whole reason Elliot had told Tyrell to meet him at the arcade was to tell him he knew how to undo the hack but hadn’t gotten the chance before everything took a bit of a turn and he had bolted.

“Can I come in?” Tyrell asks and after a moment’s hesitation, Elliot nods. He takes a few steps inside and Elliot cringes internally at the mess.

“Sorry it’s not very clean,” He murmurs with a blush. “Someone broke in last night, not sure what they were looking for,” That was a lie, he knew exactly what whoever had raided his apartment had been looking for: information on how to clean the virus from Whiterose’s database but left with nothing, of course.

Elliot couldn’t focus on that now. He needed to check in on Darlene, see how she was doing and tell her about the hack. First, he needed to handle Tyrell, see whatever he was about to throw at him. “Now,” He begins, turning toward him. “What did you need?”

“I wanted to talk about last night,” There it was, that _request_ to talk about what happened at the arcade. Or… what hadn’t happened. But why?

“Why?” Elliot can’t help but ask, pinching the bridge of his nose with irritation. “What is there to talk about?”

“I see the way you look at me,” Tyrell murmurs, voice low. “I know you want this just as much as I do,”

“Want _what?”_

Tyrell takes the few strides left to Elliot, close enough to touch him and does exactly that, holding his face in his hands. “This. This… closeness. The bond we have. We can be gods, Elliot. Just us,”

“There is no god,” Elliot snaps, stepping away from him. “This is foolish, Tyrell. You don’t know what you’re talking about,” He pulls away from from him, eyebrows furrowed and mouth set tight.

When Elliot takes the time to look over Tyrell’s expression, he finds hurt written there and he can’t help but frown at the sight of it, stepping back and sighing heavily. “You said you’d always be loyal to me,” He begins slowly, gaze never leaving his despite the slight distance between them now. “And right now I just need you to listen. We can… put whatever this is on the back burner but for now I need you to focus,”

Tyrell nods, light eyes cool as steel and says, “What did you need to tell me?” Nerves pulse like crashing waves down on Elliot then and he takes in a shaky breath before he says, “I undid the hack last night,” He’s frozen solid as he stands waiting for Tyrell’s reaction. Elliot watches as Tyrell’s eyes widen with disbelief and takes a few steps backward, nervous for when it would all properly hit him.

 _“_ _What?”_ Tyrell asks, voice incredibly loud in the empty apartment, skin colouring a dark crimson as anger sets in. “Elliot, why would you do that?”

“5/9 means nothing to Whiterose and the dark army but it means something to me. I had to fix it or I wouldn’t be able to live with myself,” Elliot says quickly. “This hasn’t changed anything, all it’s done is fixed my wrongs and you’re no longer an in for the FBI. The feds don’t know about the dark army’s plans so they have no use for you anymore. You’re free,”

“You did this for me then, hmm?” Tyrell says with a harsh laugh, arms crossed over his chest. “You worked so hard for this, the hack, taking down E-Corp and now you’ve ruined all of it,”

“Thousands of people died, Tyrell,” Elliot says quietly, eyes wild as he searches Wellick’s face, hoping to take in something other than the overwhelming rage running over him. “That happened because of _me_ and I couldn’t handle it anymore. I had to make things right,”

“That wasn’t you, Elliot. Angela had been the one to hack into E-Corp’s data the night the mobs broke into the building,” Tyrell explains but Elliot shakes his head quickly, not believing him quite yet.

“It was _me_ who started all of this,” Elliot cuts in, anger bubbling up inside him as well. “If I hadn’t come up with all of this then she wouldn’t have been involved in the first place,”

Tyrell sighs heavily and runs his hands through his hair, not meeting Elliot’s gaze. “I will always be loyal to you,” Tyrell says, much to Elliot’s knowledge. “So I’ll stand by you with this but… just know I’m not happy about it,”

Elliot snorts, amused and says, “Noted,” When he looks Tyrell over again, he finds the man’s anger had lessened, if only slightly. “If you want, we can… talk about last night,” He says eventually and his voice comes out soft and slow; Tyrell nearly melts at the sound of it and can only find it in himself to nod. “I just don’t know what you want me to say,” Elliot admits, not meeting his gaze.

“I want you to tell me how you feel at the thought of all the things I could do to you,” Tyrell says, voice low and inviting. “How I could touch you, kiss you…”

They’re mere inches apart then and Elliot was unaware of when he had moved closer. “I…” Elliot trails off, heart beating wildly and gaze shifting down from Tyrell’s eyes to his lips, full and pink, just waiting for Elliot to make the first move, give Tyrell the greenlight and then… then it was over. “I can’t deny that there’s something between us but I’ve never… I’ve never been with a man,” He looks Tyrell up and down, taking him all in as he wonders if he was in over his head.

Elliot thinks of Shayla, the girl who knew so much but so little of him all at once; she had been fragile, all sharp angles and stolen kisses while Tyrell was nothing of the sort. Wellick was stocky despite his long limbs, had hands capable of many things and Elliot can feel himself blushing. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t attracted to him; Tyrell was handsome in his own way and Elliot feels some sort of pull toward him that he could no longer ignore.

“Would you like to find out?” Elliot takes a deep breath before closing the space between them and kissing him insecurely. Elliot’s lips were soft and searching, simply playing as he went along on unsure footing and soon Tyrell takes the lead, cupping Elliot’s face in his palms once again, the two moving together as one. Elliot runs his hands through Tyrell’s hair, simply wanting _moremoremore_ and kicks himself for delaying this for so long. Tyrell seemed to be exactly what Elliot had been missing all along.

When the two pull apart, Elliot nearly gasps, breathless and pupils blown wide with lust. “I need to know,” Elliot murmurs insecurely lips red and kiss swollen. “I need to know if it’s me you want or if it’s… him,”

Tyrell offers a gentle smile and presses a kiss to Elliot’s forehead. “You,” Tyrell says finally. “It’s always been you,” His grin is solid, more confident than Elliot’s was and Tyrell strokes a finger over Elliot’s cheekbone with a feather light touch before he says, “Figure out what you want and once you do, get back to me. Bonsoir, Elliot,”

“Wait,” Elliot chokes as Tyrell moves toward the door. “What is it that _you_ want?”

Tyrell offers the smallest of smiles before he replies. “I think we both know what I want, Elliot,” He leaves before Elliot can think up a response and once the door shuts behind him only then does Elliot seem to come to his senses. He presses his fingertips to his lips, as if he could almost feel Tyrell’s lips there and can’t help but smile.

 _Bonsoir, Elliot._ He had said. Goodbye. It was only for now but the ball was in Elliot’s court, Tyrell had handed complete power to him and now all that was left was for Elliot to make his move and he wasn’t sure exactly what it was he wanted. Or… did he?

Elliot groans, heading to the bathroom and splashes water over his flushed features. He knew exactly what he wanted but was too afraid to admit it. He wanted Tyrell Wellick, the most wanted man in the world and despite having him right at his fingertips felt as if he were stationed miles away. All he needed to do was say the word and Tyrell would be his but there was a part of himself Elliot wasn’t yet willing to let go of.

He shakes himself out and heads back to his room, knowing this was nothing a line couldn’t fix and grins, not regretting a second of it as soon as his mind quiets and everything fades away.


	2. Withdrawal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Elliot is having morphine withdrawal symptoms and despite it all, Tyrell is there to help him through it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This just so happens to be a mix of angst and fluff. Enjoy x

Elliot Alderson was entirely convinced he was going to die. His shirt was dark and drenched with sweat and his heart raced as his head continued to pound. He didn’t think he was going to survive this, despite all that he had gone through. It had been just over 24 hours since Elliot had had his last line and he needed it now more than ever but... now that Shayla and her dealer were gone, he couldn’t get his fix.

Elliot shivers, overcome with a round of chills despite the sweat and curls in on himself, miserable. Nausea ran up his throat and he sprints to the bathroom on shaky limbs, dry heaving over the toilet and groans, sitting back against the lip of the bathtub, sobbing. He couldn’t get through this. It seemed impossible.

A knock sounds on his door but Elliot doesn’t move, couldn’t move and stays frozen in the corner of his bathroom, completely spent. “Elliot?” Someone calls and he can barely find the strength to lift his head as none other than Tyrell Wellick stands before him. “Elliot, what’s wrong?” He asks and his voice is soft, holding a velvet gentleness that Elliot had never heard before.

“Leave me alone,” He croaks, peering up at him with red rimmed eyes which teared against his will. “You don’t need to see me like this,” Elliot doesn’t manage to get another word out, only turns toward the toilet and gets sick this time, stomach acid and the little food he had managed to choke down burning the back of his throat and he groans uncomfortably. “Go, please,” He begs and Tyrell frowns, looking at a loss.

“What’s wrong?” He asks again and Elliot wipes his mouth with the back of his wrist before pointing a shaky finger to the empty bottle of morphine.

“Withdrawal,” Elliot whimpers pathetically and wraps his arms around himself, trying to put as much distance between them as he can. “Please leave,”

Tyrell crouches to meet Elliot’s eyes and murmurs, “I’m not leaving you alone, Elliot. Not when you’re like this,”

“I can take care of myself,” Elliot’s words come out slurred and he can’t hold Tyrell’s gaze, turning to the toilet again and tenses over it, stomach lurching and groans miserably before going slack again.

Tyrell is quiet for a moment, thinking before he says, “Let me take you back to your room. I’ll get you a wet washcloth and some water. Put you in some fresh clothes,”

Elliot tried to protest but his head was spinning and his heart was racing wildly as he looks up at Tyrell with a pained expression. Maybe what Wellick was suggesting was the best option. No matter how strong of a front Elliot put up, he knew he couldn’t do this on his own. “Okay,” He whispers and says nothing else as Tyrell helps him to his feet, wrapping his arm around Elliot’s middle and guides him to his room.

“Where do you keep your clothes?” Tyrell asks gently and Elliot points to his dresser before shutting his eyes tight in the hopes of stilling the spinning room before he could get sick again. “Lift up your arms for me, dear,”

Elliot does as he’s told, too weak and delirious to feel any bit of embarrassment as Tyrell lifts his sweaty shirt over his head in exchange for a loose, dry one. He helps Elliot out of his pants then, into baggy sweatpants instead and when Tyrell moves toward the door, Elliot feels a growing sense of panic bloom in his chest. “Where are you going?” He asks quickly and Tyrell offers up a small smile.

“Just going to get you water and a wet washcloth like I promised,” He responds. “I’ll be right back,”

Elliot nods sluggishly and shuts his eyes as Tyrell leaves the room, feeling the loneliest he’d ever felt. Nausea still rolled uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach and he curls in on himself, a cold sweat clamming up his skin once again. How long would this last? When would these symptoms fade?

“You’re gonna get through this, kiddo,” Elliot’s eyes snap open suddenly at the voice and turns to see Mr. Robot standing in the corner of the room with his arms crossed over his chest.

“It doesn’t feel like I will,” Elliot admits softly. “I don’t know if I can do this,”

“You can,” Mr. Robot consoles him and Elliot doesn’t respond, knowing full well that this was all in his head. If his subconscious was confident enough to tell him he could handle this, deep down he knew he could.

He doesn’t have much time to mull it over before Tyrell is back holding exactly what he had promised. “Sit up and drink this slowly,” He instructs and Elliot does so, taking the glass of water from him and sipping it.

“Thank you,” He whispers. Tyrell says nothing, only offers another gentle smile before ordering him to sit back as he rests the wet rag against his forehead. “Do I look as shitty as I feel?” Elliot asks with a bitter laugh. “Because I feel pretty horrible,”

Tyrell rolls his eyes at Elliot, amused before shaking his head. “You look wonderful,” He promises and despite the clamminess of his skin and the swimming of his head, he feels a hot blush creep up his cheeks.

A few moments of silence pass between them before Elliot shifts his gaze to his hands and says, “I don’t know if I’ll get through this,”

“You will,” Tyrell tells him and despite the lurking doubt, Elliot feels the slightest bit more at ease.

Elliot sits up quickly before the comfort can set in and leans over the side of his bed beside the trashcan and gets sick, all stomach acid now and grimaces. “Shit,” He says miserably. “I’m sorry,”

“No need to apologize,” Tyrell reassures him and Elliot shakes his head, looking ashamed.

He lays back in bed, resting his forearm over his eyes as he feels tears line the base of his lashes. “You shouldn’t be here. I’m just... I’m just an addict and don’t deserve all of... this,” He whispers, voice breaking and Tyrell can’t help but frown.

“That’s not true and you know it,” Tyrell protests, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re capable of so many things, Elliot. You’re strong and I know you can do this,”

Elliot shudders, tears falling freely now and sniffles pathetically. “I just want this to be over,” He admits, wiping his eyes. “I just need one hit. Just to get back on my feet,” He says quickly. “I won’t abuse it anymore. I just... one hit is all I need,”

When Elliot takes the time to look over at Tyrell, he finds the confident man shaking his head at the suggestion. “No,” He says instantly. “That’s not happening,” Tyrell watches the devastation wash over Elliot’s face at once, watches the man sob into his hands with pain and exhaustion but he doesn’t break.

“I didn’t do this for myself,” Elliot admits after a few moments of silence. “My dealer, he... he’s not an option anymore,” He turns his back to Tyrell, not wanting him to catch the tears rolling down his face. “Please,” He whispers brokenly. “I won’t ask for anything else,”

“I can’t let you do that,” Tyrell says quietly and Elliot can’t stop the intensity of his sobs now, loud enough to leave his throat raw but he doesn’t care as he wipes his runny nose on the sleeve of his hoodie, shattered.

“Why?” He whimpers, not meeting Tyrell’s gaze. “I thought you said you wanted to help me,”

“I do want to help you,” Tyrell insists. “I’m helping you by not allowing you to continue to do this to yourself,”

Elliot groans, anger rolling off him in waves and says, “Fuck off, Wellick. I don’t need your help. I don’t need anything from you,” He turns his back to the CTO, fuming and doesn’t wait for Tyrell’s response before he continues. “I don’t want you here. Leave,”

His voice is sharp, holding a sort of toxicity that makes Tyrell flinch back with surprise. “Elliot--”

“Leave! Leave, god damn it!” Elliot shouts, back to him and Tyrell hesitates slightly before doing as he’s told. When the door shuts behind him, Elliot falls back into a round of sobs. His temples throbbed with every dry cry, every heave of his chest and feels as if his head would split open if he continued but Elliot couldn’t stop. He cries until he’s nearly gagging on the tears and even then they barely slow.

Elliot gets up long after that, stumbling out into the living room and half expecting Tyrell to be sitting there on the couch waiting for him to arrive, to tell him that everything would be fine and that he could get through this. But Tyrell was gone, had left as Elliot had told him to and now he felt incredibly lonely as he stands in front of his bathroom mirror, glaring at his reflection. Elliot was all sharp angles despite his tear swollen eyes and tense jaw.

He brings his fist up to the mirror and doesn’t flinch when his knuckles make contact, shards of glass embedded into the skin, glad he finally had something else to focus on. “Shit,” He whispers at the steady flow of blood and grabs a pair of tweezers, extracting the shards with shaky hands, a task much more difficult than he had originally expected. Elliot’s muscles ache painfully and he whimpers, feeling at a loss.

What does he do now? Friend, are you there? Could you help me?

Elliot shudders at the silence, tears collecting in his eyes again and he wipes them away, ashamed. He had done this to himself, had told Tyrell to leave despite that being the last thing he wanted and now he wasn’t sure how to get him back. He slides back against the bathroom wall, cradling his injured hand to his chest and whimpers into his shirt. He wouldn’t call Tyrell or Angela or Darlene, he had too much pride for that despite the situation he was in so Elliot opts for continuing to cry pathetically on his bathroom floor.

Minutes or hours pass, Elliot is unsure which; time seemed that of a social construct, everything moved in slow motion and he flinches when he hears the door to his apartment swiftly open and close. He’s trembling with nerves, anxiety clawing up his throat as he subconsciously picks at the clotted cuts on his knuckles, a nervous habit. “Elliot?” Shit. It was Tyrell again. “Elliot, are you alright? Are you home?” Wellick calls yet Elliot can’t manage to get a word out, terrified.

When Tyrell walks into the bathroom, taking in the shattered mirror and the broken man before him, a deep frown takes over his handsome features. “Hey,” Elliot says quietly, visibly trembling. “You came back,”

“Of course I did,” Tyrell says with a hint of a smile. “What happened to you?”

Elliot can’t help but roll his eyes at the question. “Obvious, isn’t it?” He murmurs, wiping sweat from his brow. “I’ll clean it. I just— can’t, right now,” He pauses for a moment, swallowing his pride before continuing. “My whole body hurts, Tyrell. I— I don’t think I can get up,” He admits pathetically and feels himself blushing under Tyrell’s gaze. “I was a dick to you and I don’t expect you to help me so you can go... if you want,”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Tyrell murmurs, crouching down to his eye level and cups Elliot’s clammy face in his hands. “We’ll get through this together,”

“Promise?” Elliot whimpers, shutting his eyes tight to keep the tears at bay.

“I promise,” Tyrell says and the sincerity of his voice calms him.

“Can we just stay here for a while?” Elliot whispers and Tyrell nods, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Whatever you want, darling,” Tyrell whispers into the semidarkness. “Just say the word and I’m there. I’ve always got you,”

Elliot nods, feeling the slightest bit foolish as he leans into him, relishing in the warmth of his skin beneath his dress shirt. “Thank you,” Elliot says, a quiet mantra that breaks Tyrell’s heart but he says nothing, only presses another kiss to Elliot’s forehead, running his fingers through his hair and for the first time, Elliot is convinced everything would be alright.


	3. Safe House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Elliot and Tyrell are being followed and take refuge at Darlene's old FBI safe house. Things get heated pretty quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This description sucks but hopefully the actual one shot will do it justice. Much love x

“900 watt or 1100?” Tyrell asks with a raised eyebrow as he watches Elliot scan the shelves with a sort of ambition and he can’t help but grin.

“900,” Elliot says, nearly under his breath as he crouches to inspect the bottom shelf. “They break down the SIM cards better and they don’t explode like the higher watts do. We want to destroy the card but also don’t want to set my apartment on fire,” He mutters as he wiggles one of the microwaves out, reading the back of the box, nodding with approval and putting it into their shopping cart.

Elliot hadn’t initially planned for Tyrell to tag along on his trip to the store but after his last wipe down, his microwave was shot and the CTO had a car that would make his commute to and from his apartment much smoother. So despite the discomfort of the man watching him, Elliot had offered up the opportunity to which Tyrell had quickly accepted. He had hacked into another small business, an in-home soap shop that was cooking meth in their basement and had left an anonymous tip for the police before bolting.

“I don’t know why you do this,” Mr. Robot says, arms crossed as he stood at Elliot’s side. “Hacking into small businesses is useless,”

“Surely much better than hacking into the largest conglomerate in the United States,” Elliot mutters before standing up straight and pushing the cart off to find Tyrell. He found a sort of comfort in hacking into small businesses; it was easy and Elliot could do it in his sleep with little to no consequences as long as he was smart about it.

Wellick has disappeared within the aisles and if he hadn’t, Elliot wouldn’t have given Mr. Robot the time of day. He was able to recognize that his father was that of his imagination and nothing else yet had opted to speaking to him only when he was sure they were alone.

“Tyrell,” Elliot calls, shifting quickly between the lanes. “Tyrell where are you?”

He could feel eyes on him and adrenaline rushes through his veins when Mr. Robot says, “Those men in suits are trailing you. You need to get out of here. With or without Wellick. Otherwise you’re screwed,”

“I can’t just leave him,” Elliot hisses. “They’ll kill him if I do,”

“Who cares?” Mr. Robot counters, annoyed. “He’s useless to us now. Just—“

“I’m not leaving him,” Elliot repeats, gripping the cart with white knuckles. “I’ll find him and then we’ll go,” He’s walking quickly down the aisles now, almost at a jog and it’s then that he finds Wellick in the next lane being held up against the shelves by his throat, choked by one of the suited men. Shit. So this wasn’t a delusion, then.

Elliot takes a final deep breath, balls his hands into fists and connects them to the man’s face until Tyrell is free from his grasp. “C’mon,” Elliot says as Tyrell gasps for breath. “We need to go,”

All Tyrell can manage is a nod and follows Elliot on unsure footing as he sprints to the emergency exit. The alarm would sound but Elliot couldn’t be bothered, this exit was closer to the parking lot and if they were quick enough, they could make it to Tyrell’s car. Elliot risks a look back, finding the men not far off and he’s nearly dragging Tyrell to the car, snatching the keys from him and taking the driver’s seat as Tyrell stumbles over to the passenger’s.

The tires squeal as Elliot backs out of the parking lot and onto the road and he grips the steering wheel a bit tighter to hide the trembling of his hands. “Where are we going?” Tyrell asks, voice raspy but breathing more even.

“Darlene’s old FBI safe house,” Elliot says, not bothering to look over at Tyrell. “I disconnected the cameras a few days ago. I had a bad feeling something like this would happen,” His words ring true; it had been far too long since something like this happened, too quiet and Elliot was glad he had thought to do this. He wasn’t sure what he would’ve done otherwise. But what did Whiterose want from him now? Elliot had done his part.

“What do we do now?” Tyrell asks quietly as he watches Elliot pick the lock and Elliot shrugs, sighing with relief once the lock clicks open. He had parked the car two blocks down in case the men had gotten the license plate and knew now that they were as safe as they could be.

“Lay low for a while,” He says eventually, shutting the blinds and locking the door. “We need to stay here for a day or two. Then we should be alright,”

“Are you sure?” Tyrell asks and there’s the slightest twinge of paranoia lying in his tone.

“This isn’t my first encounter with these people. I think I know what I’m talking about,” Elliot says almost sarcastically before frowning at Tyrell who winced each time he swallowed. “Are you alright?” He sighs. “Did they hurt you anywhere else?”

“No,” Tyrell says, relieved.

“Go try to find something in the fridge you can ice that with,” Elliot orders, jerking his chin at the red handprint around Tyrell’s throat. “That should help if there’s any swelling,”

Tyrell nods, looking thankful before walking over to the fridge and does as he’s told. “We forgot about your microwave,” Tyrell says as he comes back out into the living room, holding a bag of frozen peas to his throat.

“Fuck the microwave,” Elliot says with a roll of his eyes, propping his feet up on the coffee table as he lounges on the couch. “We’ll be just fine,”

Tyrell hesitates before him, nodding but looks uncertain. “Alright,” He whispers, taking a seat beside him. “Thank you for... saving me,” Tyrell says at last and Elliot shrugs, unable to hold his gaze.

“No need to thank me,” He says eventually. “I did what I had to do to keep us both alive,” Elliot had never done anything to show he had even an inkling of fondness for Tyrell so the fact that he risked getting captured by Whiterose in order to save him meant more to Tyrell than he could ever imagine. He takes a seat beside him on the couch, finally allowing himself to relax as he shifts the peas on his neck, wincing. “It’ll feel better by tomorrow or the next,” Elliot promises.

Tyrell says nothing, only stares down at the chipped nails of his free hand and sighs shakily. “This isn’t exactly how I planned on spending my Sunday afternoon,” He says with a small smile as he sets the bag of peas on the table and Elliot can’t help but mimic it, amused.

“You and me both,” He looks down at his hands, rough and calloused with bruising knuckles and Tyrell swears under his breath with surprise at the sight of it. Elliot looks up at him then, smirking and says, “What? Never seen bruised knuckles before? If they catch us, you’ve got a lot more to worry about than bruised knuckles, Princess,”

“But you said—“

“They won’t catch us, Tyrell,” Elliot cuts in yet doesn’t feel very bad for spooking him. “Everything will be fine, you watch. If it would really make you feel better we can take turns staying up in case we run into trouble but I doubt it,”

Tyrell nods but his hands shook violently with nerves and Elliot tries hard to keep his irritation at bay as he says, “Jesus Christ, you need to smoke a bowl or two and chill out,”

“I don’t do drugs,” Tyrell says quickly and Elliot can’t help but roll his eyes this time.

“Right. Strangling people seems to be more your speed,” Tyrell flinches back, surprised at the jab and curls his hands into fists, anger bubbling up in his chest.

“Fuck off, Alderson,” He snaps and Elliot scoffs with a raised eyebrow.

“Last time I checked,” He begins, voice low. “If I’d have done that, you’d be dead,” Elliot was being a dick and he knew it but anxiety of his own rose up in his throat, wanting desperately to find it’s way out and the only way Elliot knew how to stuff it back down was to be hostile, to hurt people before he could get hurt himself.

“Do whatever you want,” Elliot continues, standing up. “Leave or don’t, I don’t give a shit,” He moves toward what must be the bedroom and shuts the door, not looking back.

***

“You’re gonna make me take the couch?” Tyrell asks through the opposite side of the bedroom door with a raised eyebrow.

“Well we’re sure as hell not going to share a bed,” Elliot says from the mattress, skimming through a discarded book, a classic but something Elliot hadn’t read on his own accord. “You can last two days on the sofa, your highness,” He snorts, grinning.

Tyrell wanted to complain, explain all the reasons why they should share a bed but huffs with annoyance and walks off instead. He takes a seat on the couch, the cushions feeling much firmer than before and groans. This would be a difficult two days but it was better than being wherever Whiterose had planned to do to him. He runs a hand through his hair, knowing he should be grateful. Elliot had saved his life after all so he supposed that meant he could take the bedroom.

The night was long; neither of them could sleep and Elliot lies awake, staring at the ceiling and wondering what in the fuck would happen next. Would the top 1% of the 1% find him? Kill him? Torture him? He couldn’t be sure and despite the front he put up, Elliot was terrified. He had undone the hack, yes but that had nothing to do with Whiterose. She had said so herself; 5/9 meant nothing to her so why was he being followed? Why had they attacked Tyrell? Was Tyrell keeping something from him? Did he know something Elliot didn’t?

Elliot merely watches the time pass, hour by hour yet sleep doesn’t come. He could hear Tyrell snoring in the living room and tries his best to keep quiet as he rummages the kitchen cabinets for a mortar and pestle. After minutes of searching, he finally finds one and takes a baggy from his jeans, drops a precious pill into the mortar and grinds it to a powder. Once he’s satisfied with the consistency, he lines the morphine and snorts it through a dollar bill. “What’re you doing?”

Elliot turns, anxiety flooding his system before the drugs have a chance to take over and finds Tyrell standing before him, rubbing his sleep heavy eyes. “Couldn’t sleep,” Elliot chokes out, eyes shifting quickly, anywhere but to Tyrell. “Was going to get some water,” He continues and watches Tyrell’s gaze lock on the mortar, then the dollar bill.

“Right,” He says, unconvinced. “You’re doing drugs at one in the morning,” Tyrell says finally and Elliot cringes, staring down at his hands which shook slightly with the high.

“What’s it matter to you?” Elliot asks lowly, wiping his nose and glaring at him.

“If someone finds us I don’t want you to doped up on--”

“I was high for the majority of the 5/9 hack,” Elliot cuts in quickly, too quickly, maybe and his tongue feels heavy in his mouth, twisted. “And yet I managed to take down the largest conglomerate in the United States. So I don’t think I have a problem with functioning when I’m doped up,” He sighs, running a hand through his hair and turns his back to Tyrell, cleaning up his mess. “Go back to bed,” He orders, frustrated. “I’m not in the mood to deal with this,”

“If you wanted to keep things a secret you would’ve went off to the bedroom,” Tyrell points out and Elliot grits his teeth with annoyance but doesn’t turn toward him quite yet. “I think you wanted me to find you. You--”

“You know nothing,” Elliot hisses, setting the bowl down with a hollow slam. “So I’d suggest you quit making assumptions,” He turns toward Tyrell then, taking the few steps between them before they’re nose to nose. “Bonsoir, Tyrell,” Elliot snaps with a sort of viciousness Tyrell had never heard from him before and watches as Elliot retreats toward the bedroom.

Tyrell groans and despite the fatigue, feels a growing sense of worry for Elliot. How long had he been getting high off morphine? How couldn’t he have noticed? When had Elliot gotten so good at hiding it?

Elliot paces around the bedroom, morphine buzzing wildly through his veins but the anxiety of being caught still remained. _Shit. I’m doing the one thing I promised myself I’d never do._ Elliot thinks, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans. _I was revealing my source code, the one thing that kept me safe. Why was my self control crumbling? What made Tyrell so special? He was never supposed to know. No one was supposed to know. What happens now? Friend, could you help me?_

The silence that follows is deafening. This person, this imaginary friend was just that. Imaginary and yet it gave Elliot some sort of unexplainable comfort. They were only there to listen, never to give advice or tell him that what he was doing was wrong or inhumane, just to lend an ear, let Elliot speak his mind without consequence and that was more helpful than Elliot would ever admit.

When the darkness breaks into early morning, Elliot stumbles out of the bedroom, coming down from his high and in no mood to deal with whatever Tyrell was going to throw at him. He makes himself breakfast, whatever he could find in the safe house fridge and doesn’t offer Wellick any of it, sitting at the table with his back to the CTO with no intention on inviting him in. “Elliot,” Tyrell calls, watching the hacker’s stillness at the sound of his name. “Elliot, talk to me,”

“Why should I?” Elliot replies, still not turning to meet him. “I have nothing to say to you,”

Silence follows not long after that and Elliot doesn’t mind, only continues to eat his cereal dry while ignoring Tyrell the best he can. “This is childish,” Tyrell says finally, annoyed. “The least you can do is look at me,”

Anger boils up inside Elliot and so he turns, eyes ablaze and snaps, “Is this good enough for you, Wellick?”

Tyrell pinches the bridge of his nose with frustration and says, “I didn’t mean what I said last night. I don’t... I don’t want us to constantly be fighting,”

Elliot can’t help but scowl at this, breakfast forgotten. “Isn’t that what we do?” He asks bitterly. “Fight? Seems to be all that happens when we’re together,”

“It doesn’t have to be,”

Elliot frowns at the softness of Tyrell’s voice, the light bruising on his throat and the trembling of his hands. “What the fuck does that mean? What else is there left for us to—“ He’s cut off by Tyrell’s lips on his own, caressing Elliot’s face in those large, deadly hands and yet... and yet, Elliot doesn’t mind one bit.

“How about we share that bed instead?” Tyrell murmurs hoarsely once they pull apart. Elliot can only nod, pupils blown wide with lust and doesn’t complain when Tyrell shuts the door behind them and throws him down on the bed with a sort of hunger Elliot could get used to.


	4. Morphine and Mistakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Tyrell picks Elliot up at a bar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elliot’s social anxiety isn’t touched on much after early episodes in S1. He went from being afraid to enter a crowded bar to blackmailing people with a gun to his head. Despite loving the show, I’m a little disappointed because the anxiety he suffered with was one of the things I related with Elliot most. So naturally I decided to write a one shot to try to do it justice. Also, I didn’t edit this. Like, at all.

Shit. Shit shit shit. Elliot presses himself back against the hard brick wall outside of the bar, hands shaky and heart racing. Angela had asked Elliot to come to her birthday party at the most popular bar in Queens and Elliot had shown up, despite already being an hour late. The challenge now was actually getting himself to go inside.

He takes a few deep breaths, coming out shaky and shallow as he shuts his eyes tight and tries to pull himself together. Elliot wipes his clammy palms on his jeans and swallows hard before opening the door and stumbling inside. The music was loud, the bass rumbling in his chest and Elliot gasps with discomfort as he’s pressed against a sea of bodies. Why did Angela have to pick such a packed bar?

Elliot scans the room for those he knew, shown to be a difficult task but finds Angela soon enough, head thrown back with laughter and sipping on a vodka sour with rosy cheeks and glassy eyes. When she spots Elliot, her smile widens and she pulls him into a hug and Elliot cringes but doesn’t pull away, if only for her sake.

“You made it!” Angela shouts over the music and Elliot nods with a shaky smile.

He hands her a card and she rips through the envelope and takes out the IKEA gift card with a chuckle. “I know you’re looking to redecorate your apartment. It’s not much but—“ Elliot starts with equal volume but Angela stops him with another smile.

“It’s perfect!” She insists before she takes his hand and leads him over to the cluster of coworkers who had already accumulated over the past hour.

“Nice to see you made it, man!” Ollie says, clapping him on the shoulder and Elliot fights hard not to grimace as he nods. Maybe coming here was a mistake.

“I’ll be right back,” Elliot shouts before scurrying off to the bathroom. He shuts himself in one of the few stalls and takes a baggy of powder out of the pocket of his hoodie. Two lines worth of morphine were inside but Elliot doesn’t have the space for that so he does a bump off his credit card instead. He waits for the opiates to take effect before he leaves, wiping his nose and washing his hands.

When Elliot makes the move to leave the bathroom, considerably more relaxed, he bumps into someone, a tall, lanky man dressed in clothes much too formal for a bar, hair mussed up and damp with sweat, looking eerily familiar. “Shit,” Elliot mutters. “Sorry,”

“It’s no problem,” The man says and Elliot has to fight back a shiver at the smokiness of his voice.

“What’s a man like you doing in a bar like this?” Elliot can’t help but ask and instantly shuts his mouth, eyes wide. What was he doing?

“You don’t exactly seem like the type either, pretty boy,” He smiles at Elliot’s silence, looking like a deer caught in headlights and says, “How about we get out of here?”

As if against his will, Elliot finds himself nodding. “Alright,” He chokes with a rosy blush. “Just let me say goodbye to my friends,”

Elliot skitters off before the man could have any say and when he makes it back over to Angela and Ollie, he offers them nervous smiles. “I’ve got to get going,” He shouts and watches Angela pout.

“Why?” She asks with confusion and when Elliot jerks his chin toward the man waiting a few paces off, her eyebrows hit her hairline.

“Shit,” Ollie says with a chuckle. “That’s Tyrell Wellick, the CTO at E Corp. You go, Alderson,”

Elliot can feel himself blushing and he gives Angela’s hand a final squeeze before he disappears into the crowd. He finds Tyrell quickly, the height and sheer power he held nearly a gravitational pull and says, “Alright, let’s go,”

The walk to Tyrell’s car is short; it was larger than Elliot had been expecting and the leather felt cool and expensive under his touch. “I rented a hotel for the night,” Tyrell says and Elliot nods, not meeting his gaze. He was glad that was the case, didn’t want to take Tyrell to his shitty apartment on the bad side of town.

Elliot had been expecting a shabby motel 6, not the 5 star hotel Tyrell had parked in front of. He feels incredibly out of place as they walk up to the reception desk and Tyrell grabs the keys before leading Elliot up to their room.

It’s then that his nerves set in, the creeping tightness in his chest, the racing of his heart and shifting of his eyes. What was he doing? Since when did he have one night stands? He hadn’t done that since the first time he had had sex with Shayla. Elliot knew better than to make decisions like these on morphine. But what choice did he have now?

“Are you okay?”

Elliot pivots to see Tyrell standing a few feet off from him, looking concerned and Elliot forces a shaky nod. “Yeah,” Elliot says. “Fine,” He moves toward Tyrell then, eliminating the space between them and kissing him tenderly. Touch was fine, as long as Elliot was the one initiating it.

Tyrell is frozen for a moment, surprised but falls into the kiss quickly. Elliot’s lips were full and chapped and Tyrell pretends not to notice the tremor in his hands while Elliot holds his face gently. Tyrell had never experienced this type of fondness before. Everything had been forceful and rough with Joanna and yet... Elliot possessed some sort of tenderness Tyrell hadn’t known he had been craving all along.

Elliot’s hands move down to the collar of Tyrell’s shirt and guides him over to the bed, just big enough for the both of them. “You want me to make you feel good, Mr. Wellick?” Elliot asks breathlessly.

It was odd, the fact that Elliot acknowledged that he recognized Tyrell but Wellick hadn’t done the same but neither of them give it much thought. All they were focused on was the way Elliot’s hands were trailing down to Tyrell’s trousers, unbuttoning them and pulling the zipper down. Elliot takes in the toned muscles, skin just as pale as the rest of him and the moment feels oddly intimate as Elliot slowly pulls his pants to the floor.

Elliot freezes up when his fingers meet the elastic of Tyrell’s boxers. What if all this was was a publicity stunt? Tyrell must know that Elliot worked at AllSafe, that he was one of the best techs in the game. What if this was some dirty ploy, some way to blackmail Elliot into doing whatever it was that Tyrell wanted?

“Elliot,” Tyrell murmurs at his hesitation. “Are you alright?”

There it was. Tyrell had finally acknowledged the fact that he knew exactly who Elliot was. This only worsens Elliot’s anxiety, the creeping paranoia lurking beneath his skin no matter how hard he pushed it down. There was no stopping it now. “I...” Elliot pauses. “I’ll be right back,” He scurries off the bed, chest tight and heads off to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him and lets off a shaky breath.

Elliot couldn’t do this. He had to back out.

He splashes cool water on his face and takes in the red rimming his eyes and the chap of his lips and shudders, drying his hands before doing another bump of morphine, shaking out his hands. Maybe the morphine would give him a rush that could pull him through the night.

A knock sounds on the door, loud in the hollow silence and Elliot flinches, not expecting it. “Elliot,” Tyrell calls. “Are you alright?” Elliot hesitates in front of the door, shutting his eyes tight and hopes to will everything away. But then the knock sounds again and he knows he can’t delay it any longer. He opens the door with a final deep breath and meets Tyrell’s gaze with blown pupils.

It was the third time Tyrell had asked him that that night and Elliot had the lurking suspicion that it wouldn’t be the last. “I...” Elliot trails off, eyes shifting down to his boots, scuffed and worn.

“If you don’t want to, we don’t have to,” Tyrell tells him instantly and Elliot lets out a sharp gasp with surprise, hands trembling and he balls them into fists to disguise it.

“Thank you,” He whispers and Tyrell simply gives him a handsome smile that instantly relaxes him. “I’m sorry,”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Tyrell says. “You’re always allowed to change your mind,”

Elliot sighs, relieved but anxiety was still clawing at his throat. For once, the morphine hadn’t seemed to relax him at all. “Thank you,” He chokes, still unable to meet his gaze.

“You don’t need to thank me,” Elliot nods, the slightest jerk of his head and runs a hand through his hair. “Do you want to get something to eat instead? I know a really good barbecue place,”

Elliot looks at the clock across the room, the red dial bright in the darkness and despite the late hour, finds himself nodding. “Yeah,” He says finally, swallowing down his anxiety the best he can. “I’d like that,”


	5. Hitman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Elliot is a hitman and gets himself into a sticky situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a lot of fun to write !! I wish the Mr. Robot fandom wasn’t so small. The show is very underrated when it reality it’s woke as hell and deserves more recognition. Plus Rami is in it, of course. That’s always a plus. Much love and enjoy x

Mud soaked through the dark canvas of his shoes and Elliot grits his teeth but keeps moving, hood masking his sharp features, the tension of his jaw and redness rimming his eyes. The gun felt heavy on his belt, easily concealed as he treks forward, faster now but still several paces behind his target, close enough to keep him in view but far enough away not to attract attention. Killing Terry Colby would be easy. Being the CTO at E-Corp meant his ego was bloated, he knew that he was important, blinded by the fact but unaware that he had a target on his back. 

If Elliot managed to kill Colby--which he knew with great confidence that he would--he would get paid handsomely. This wasn’t his first time working for Tyrell Wellick and knew the man would hold up his end of the deal. He had a lot to lose; a wife and child, his reputation, all of which Elliot could destroy without as much as a second thought. Elliot had made sure Tyrell was aware of this; if Tyrell tried any funny business at all, Elliot would expose him, would make it impossible for him to recover. 

The air was cold as it bit at his skin but Elliot blocks out the numbness of his face, the stiffness of his fingers. The sun wouldn’t rise for hours yet and the fact that Colby was combing the empty streets of New York alone was an unexpected treat. It would without a doubt make his job easier. Elliot picks up his pace, sliding slightly on the mud that had begun to congeal with the chilling autumn weather. It was on the cusp of winter now, stuck in the sort of in between that Elliot despised. 

Terry continues at a slow pace, lax as he sips on a coffee and whistles without a care in the world. Despite the fact that he had a highly trained assassin trailing him. 

The alleyway they’re about to pass seemed almost too perfect but Elliot doesn’t question it as he follows close behind him and pulls him into the darkness, pressing him up against the brick with a forearm to his throat. The man screams with surprise but Elliot is quick to muffle the sound with his palm, hissing with pain when Colby bites into his flesh, harsh and desperate. There’s an unpleasant, pungent smell that fills the air and when Elliot looks down, he finds Terry had pissed himself, overcome with fear. 

Elliot cocks his gun, the cool metal heavy in his palm and presses the gun to Colby’s forehead before pulling the trigger. There’s only a faint buzzing noise, the shock of the bullet muffled by the silencer he had attached earlier that morning but Elliot’s own blood roars in his ears, quieting it further. He feels the warmth of blood splatter on his neck and cringes but otherwise doesn’t move. He can only take him in when he’s sure he had stopped breathing.

An eerie sort of silence washes over him and Elliot grimaces, hiding the body the best he can before going two blocks down to the car Wellick had promised to leave. When Elliot makes it back to the site, he pulls the car as close into the alley as he could dare and throws Colby’s body into the trunk before wiping his blood stained hands on his pants and makes his way to the arcade. Wellick would be waiting there and Elliot was eager to rid the body and get his pay. 

He’s glad the sun was yet to rise as he pulls into a parking space and carries Colby’s body through the entrance. Elliot finds Tyrell sitting beside the skeeball lanes, looking anxious and watches his face go paper white when he takes in Terry’s body. “What?” Elliot mutters, dropping the body like a sack of potatoes, the thud loud in the empty silence. “Take a good look before I burn his body,” He continues, prying the dried blood from beneath his fingernails. 

Tyrell stumbles forward, a green tint taking over the stark white and Elliot merely grimaces once he turns and gets sick a few feet away. “He’s...” Tyrell trails off and Elliot rolls his eyes now, quickly becoming irritated. 

“Dead? Yes, that’s what happens when you hire a hitman,” Elliot says with a sort of venom that has Tyrell flinching back. “Now hand over my pay. I need to get rid of this body and would like to do so before the sun rises,” 

Tyrell swallows loudly, eyes wide and hands over a wad of cash, watching as Elliot undoes the band and counts it before him. If Tyrell had shorted him, things wouldn’t end well. After counting it twice, Tyrell sighs with relief when Elliot nods with approval. “Alright,” Elliot says, shrugging as he pockets the money. “Get out of here, unless you want to watch,” He holds a grim smile that has Tyrell shuddering with unease and he says nothing as he backs away from him. 

Tyrell didn’t want to witness Elliot burning Terry Colby’s body, didn’t want to smell the bitter tang of melting flesh. The sight alone was enough to haunt him for weeks so he leaves Elliot to it. He had Elliot’s contact information, the number of a burner phone Elliot would undoubtedly trash within the next few days. If Tyrell didn’t see him again before then, he knew the chances of coming in contact with him was unlikely and that bothers him more than he’d like to admit. 

***

“Shit,” Elliot grits his teeth, waves of pain washing over his abdomen and limps over to the arcade, thankfully not far off with his hands pressed to his stomach as black dots dance across his vision. He takes his phone out, that shitty burner he had bought three days before and calls the one person he can think of as he tries to steady his breathing. 

“Elliot?” Tyrell murmurs with surprise. “Are you alright?”

“No,” Elliot chokes. “Where are you right now?” 

“At home,” Tyrell says instantly but his voice is hushed, still heavy with sleep. “What’s wrong?” 

“I need you to meet me at the arcade. Bring rubbing alcohol, gauze, a lighter, a pair of needle nose pliers and a metal butter knife,” He instructs, words muddled. 

“What—“ 

“Just do it,” Elliot snaps. “And hurry up,” He hangs up the phone then, applying more pressure to his stomach and tries to ignore the warmth of his own blood on his hands. It bothered him more than anyone else’s blood did; the blood of his enemies was of his own cause but the sight of his own, injured by an outsider caused nausea to rise up in his throat. Elliot had been trailing his next client, a younger, lower ranked associate at E-Corp who had managed to turn the tables on Elliot, bringing out a gun of his own and shooting him with barely a glance. 

Adrenaline ran like acid through his veins and Elliot fights hard to steady his breathing. Panicking wouldn’t solve anything but the fact that his vision had begun to tunnel only worsened his anxiety. 

The door to the arcade opens with a squeal and Elliot takes Tyrell in; he was holding all that he had asked, looking confused but goes paper white at the sight of his blood soaked shirt. “Elliot what the fuck,” He hisses, coming to his side.

He didn’t have time to explain, only rids himself of his shirt and takes the knife, lighter, pliers and alcohol from him. Tyrell watches as Elliot disinfects the tools, then his wound and grits his teeth to keep from gagging as he watches Elliot dig into the wound before pulling out the bullet he had been hunting for. “Fuck me,” Elliot whispers with a grimace before disinfecting his wound once again. 

When Elliot begins to heat the knife with the lighter, tinged with black but not quite red hot, Tyrell’s eyes widen. “What’re you doing?” He yelps.

“I have to cauterize the wound,” Elliot mutters, not looking up at him. “It’s too deep for it to clot on its own and I’d probably need stitches but there’s no way in hell I’m going to the hospital so this is my best bet,”

Tyrell looked close to passing out himself and he has to steady himself on the pinball machine, not sure he could believe his eyes as he watches Elliot press the knife to the injury in short bursts, as if he had done it dozens of times before and maybe he had. “Holy shit,” He mutters but can’t help but gag this time at the smell of burning flesh. It was the exact thing he had avoided days before when Elliot had killed Terry Colby and yet Tyrell found this so much worse.

“Hand me the gauze,” Elliot chokes and Tyrell does, barely managing to look in his direction as he takes it, hands soaked dark with drying blood. Once Elliot had wrapped up the wound, he sighs, relieved but winces at the pain that still remained. He limps over to the popcorn machine, opening up the popper and Tyrell’s eyes widen with surprise when Elliot pulls out a small baggy of off white powder. He had a hunch that Elliot had been on some sort of drug but opiates? That would’ve been his last guess. 

“Thank you,” Elliot mutters after doing two lines for good measure. 

Tyrell can’t help but shake himself out with confusion. What in the ever living fuck was happening right now? “Are you going to be okay?” He asks, the only thing he can come up with and watches Elliot nod sluggishly.

“I’ll be fine,” He promises, running a hand through his hair before shrugging his shirt back on. 

Tyrell was relieved to see colour was beginning to return to Elliot’s face. He looks down at the shirt he wore, a medium grey stained crimson and grimaces before shrugging off the hoodie he wore, a last minute decision when he rushed out the door to meet him and says, “Take this. It wouldn’t be very smart to walk around Queens in a bloody shirt,” The sarcasm is thick in his tone and Elliot rolls his eyes but takes it nonetheless.

“See you around, Wellick,” Elliot says simply, as if they had just been discussing the weather and Tyrell’s eyebrows furrow with confusion. 

“That’s it?” He whispers, eyes wide as he watches Elliot pull the hood over his face, looking nearly unbothered. “You’re just going to go?”

“Did you... need anything else from me?” Elliot asks, sounding just as confused. 

“No, I just—“ 

“Then I need to get going,” Elliot shrugs. “My client is going to be pissed I let him go and I need to find him before shit can hit the fan,” 

“Shit hasn’t already hit the fan?” Tyrell asks incredulously and Elliot shakes his head with the slightest smile. 

“Shit would hit the fan if I were dead,” Elliot says, zipping up his hoodie and turning his back to him. 

“Are you sure you should be going out to find that guy after you just got shot?” Tyrell whispers, uncertain. 

Elliot sighs and when he turns toward Tyrell again, he finds him frowning deeply. “If I don’t, the consequences of letting him free will be worse off,” He says simply and doesn’t give Tyrell the chance to respond before he leaves the arcade.

Tyrell stands there, buzzing with confusion as he watches Elliot limp out before the door screeches behind him and he disappears. He knew he shouldn’t leave Elliot to fend for himself but wouldn’t be much help in any case. He didn’t know the first thing about killing anyone and the sight of blood made him queasy and yet... he couldn’t bare to leave him alone. 

Tyrell leaves the arcade after making what could be the most foolish decision of his life. He finds Elliot barely outside of the parking lot and trails him, a few feet back. Tyrell knew Elliot was still on cloud nine, morphine settling deep in his blood so he would be the last thing on Elliot’s mind. 

They’re walking for hours and Tyrell couldn’t help but be the slightest bit impressed at Elliot’s stamina given the fact that he had been shot earlier that night. They stop in front of a shitty motel 6 and Elliot strides in confident as ever. The front desk is abandoned so Elliot walks behind it, looking through the clientele sheet and finds his target’s room and makes his way there. Tyrell is barely able to trail him without giving himself away but manages, sighing with relief when Elliot stops in front of one of the first few rooms, crouching down to pick the lock. Once it clicks, a muffled sound in the silence, Elliot physically relaxes, looking relieved. 

He walks into the hotel room, gun raised and painted with his own blood but he pays it little mind as he walks further into the room. He finds the man asleep on the pull out couch, hand over his eyes and Elliot grins, taking aim before pulling the trigger. 

His death was quick and Elliot grits his teeth, bitter. He wished that the man would’ve suffered, given what he had done to him but knew this was for the best. He takes his phone out and calls the agency he worked with, a secret government corporation who often took care of the bodies and gives them a run down as quickly as he can. “And hurry,” Elliot snaps into the receiver, holding his side which had begun to ache all over again. “It’s been a long night and I don’t feel like waiting,”

Elliot moves toward the doorway, frowning at the door which was left ajar. He had closed it when he had come in. Tyrell doesn’t have the chance to hide before Elliot spots him, heart racing with fear. “Damn it,” He hisses, eyes narrowed. “What the fuck are you doing here?” 

Tyrell watches as Elliot puts his gun in his belt, hiding it under the hoodie he still wore and tries to work his tongue to form any sort of explanation but comes up empty. “I—“ 

“You wanted to snoop,” Elliot cuts in, voice sharp. “What was the point in that? Wanted to watch me kill someone, did you?” 

“No, I just... I wanted to make sure you were okay,” 

“I told you I would be,” Elliot snaps, moving forward and pushing him out of the way, locking the door before pulling Tyrell toward the hotel exit. “We need to get out of here before they show up,” He mutters. 

“Who?” Tyrell asks, confused and Elliot rolls his eyes with irritation. 

“The corporation I work with. They take care of the bodies so the murder doesn’t get traced back to me. My boss would’ve had my head if I hadn’t gone through with this mission, that’s why I was so desperate to make sure I got it done,” He explains as they walk back out into the cool night air. 

“But I’m the one who contacted you,” Tyrell says with furrowed eyebrows. “I didn’t contact any sort of corporation to get to you,” 

“I take cases like yours into my own hands,” Elliot says simply. “I like the pay people like you give and I know how to get rid of bodies myself. I just don’t like to,” His voice was even as he spoke, sounding calm as they walk across the hotel parking lot. A black Escalade pulls up beside them and Elliot nods at the man who rolls down a tinted window. “A17,” He says before he and Tyrell continue on. 

“Where are we going?” He asks softly and Elliot sighs, pulling the hood up over his face. 

“I’m going home. I don’t give a shit where you go,” He shoves his hands into the pockets and sighs with frustration when Tyrell continues walking at his side. “What?” He snaps, finally losing his temper. 

“I... I don’t want to be left alone,” Tyrell murmurs, looking down at his hands. 

“You have a wife and kid. Go back to them,” 

“They’re not home,” Tyrell lies quickly, unsure why he was doing so. Maybe it was the fact that it wasn’t exactly him who wanted company. He had a feeling it was Elliot who didn’t want to be alone. 

“I know a good barbecue place not far from here,” Elliot says eventually. “Want to get something to eat?” 

The smallest of smiles makes its way onto Tyrell’s face and he nods, finally looking up at him. “I’d like that,” He admits and the silence that falls over them not long after is more comforting than not. Tyrell finds a sort of beauty in it.


	6. Sir*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Elliot purposely makes Tyrell jealous and in turn gets exactly what he wanted.

Elliot could feel Tyrell’s eyes on him. They had exited the bathroom to the club together less than ten minutes before and Elliot knew his lips were still red and kiss swollen but he didn’t mind, knocking back another shot as he flirts with the man before him. 

It had started out innocently. He had just gone up to the bar to order a few drinks when a stocky man had approached him, all scruff and confident and offered to buy Elliot a drink or two. Elliot had complied, knowing full well that Tyrell was watching, had been the moment this stranger had approached him. He offered the man to sit in the stool beside his own, resting his hand on his upper thigh and grinning at the man’s surprise. 

“Another?” The man asks, motioning to the bartender for another round and well, Elliot wouldn’t turn that down. 

Elliot takes the shot as soon as it’s set in front of him, grimacing at the burn of the alcohol as his swallows. He moves his hand farther up the stranger’s thigh and just as he’s about to brush against his semi, a hand stops him, strong and pale against his own. “What do you think you’re doing?” Tyrell murmurs into the shell of Elliot’s ear, causing him to shiver with arousal at the grittiness of his tone. He was in for it now.

“Just having a little fun,” Elliot smirks, unbothered at the way the man was taking them both in. “You have a problem with that?” He continues with a quirked eyebrow, egging him on. 

Tyrell eyes the hickeys just peaking above Elliot’s collar, dark marks ones that he had left a half hour before and is overcome with a sudden wave of need to show all those watching that Elliot was his. Tyrell pushes Elliot up against the edge of the bar, hands migrating to Elliot’s hips, pinning him there and Elliot only offers another cocky smirk. “That all you got, Wellick?”

Tyrell kisses down Elliot’s neck, leaving more hickeys whenever he dared and rubs harsh circles into the exposed skin between the gap in his shirt and the jeans that hung low on Elliot’s hips. “I’ll show you exactly what I want to do to you,” He growls, watching as Elliot’s pupils blow wide with lust, stranger forgotten. 

Tyrell exits the club knowing Elliot is following close behind. He couldn’t resist the primal way he knew Tyrell would handle him. Despite having so much fun teasing Tyrell, making him jealous enough that he couldn’t stand it, he would much rather be put in his place by the man before him. Tyrell knew exactly how to push all of Elliot’s buttons and he knew he might not even come tonight given what he had done. 

When the two stumble into Elliot’s apartment, Elliot’s blood is rushing in his ears, nearly buzzing with excitement. He would finally get what he had been craving all along. They weren’t official but they might as well have been. Tyrell and Elliot had made some sort of nonverbal agreement not to see others but wouldn’t put a label on... whatever this was. Either way, Elliot definitely didn’t mind.

“Strip,” Tyrell hisses, eyes narrowed as he waits. “Now,” He prompts at Elliot’s hesitance and eventually Elliot does, heart pounding with each thud of his clothes hitting the floor. “Boxers too,” Tyrell says when Elliot stands there, covering his half hard cock.

And Tyrell hadn’t even touched him yet. 

He does as he’s told, however and stands before Tyrell completely exposed. “So hard for me already,” Tyrell points out, smirking. “I haven’t even done anything yet, pretty boy,”

Elliot squirms at his words, hoping desperately that he would touch him soon. “Go ahead and do something then,” Elliot taunts with a grin despite his growing erection and the fact that Tyrell still had all his clothes on. 

Tyrell lessens the space between them, pushing Elliot onto the bed and pinning him there, eyeing him with a sort of hunger that has Elliot fighting back moans of arousal. He goes to work kissing down Elliot’s body, his neck, his chest, his sensitive nipples and yet, right as he’s about to take Elliot’s cock in his mouth, he hesitates. “What’re you waiting for?” Elliot growls with annoyance yet the question holds a challenge that Tyrell struggles to deny. 

“I’m doing something,” Tyrell says with a smirk. “Just not the thing you want most. Unless you beg for it,” 

Elliot groans, annoyed. “Quit playing games, Wellick,” He says, irritated. Elliot refused to beg; he would do just about anything else, but this... he was too embarrassed to do so. But he knew Tyrell loved humiliating him.

“I don’t think I’m gonna do anything, now,” Tyrell says, sounding unbothered despite the visible erection he sported. 

Then, he does the unimaginable. He steps out of his own clothes and sits down in Elliot’s computer chair. Elliot’s eyes widen with disbelief as he watches, transfixed as Tyrell begins stroking his own cock, slow and sensual as he locks eyes with Elliot from the bed. “W-What—“ Elliot chokes, feeling as if he might come just watching him. “What do you think you’re doing?” 

“I’m jerking myself off,” Tyrell says, stating the obvious with a shit eating grin. “And you’re just going to lay there and watch,” 

Elliot does just that, the burn of desire pooling deep in his stomach and he bites his lip to keep from whining. He moves his hands down closer to his own cock, just the slightest twitch of his hands before he sees Tyrell shake his head with distaste. “Did I say you could touch yourself?” He asks with a raised eyebrow. 

“No,” Elliot whispers, positioning his hands back above his head. 

“Then don’t fucking move,” Tyrell snaps. His pace on his cock hadn’t slowed yet Elliot noticed the way he was biting his lip and screwing his eyes shut. Tyrell was close already. They had barely gotten started. 

“You’re about to come already, sir? Seems a bit pathetic, doesn’t it? A bit soon,” Elliot taunts from the bed, grinning wide when Tyrell’s eyes snap open with surprise and wonder. 

His speed slows slightly as he takes Elliot in again, hard and leaking against his stomach, hands above his head, unable to touch. Tyrell knew if Elliot continued to taunt him like that he wouldn’t let him come at all. 

“You have such a dirty mouth,” Tyrell growls, eyes narrowed. “So why don’t you put it to work?” He jerks his chin toward him, motioning Elliot forward and he does, getting off the bed and stands before him. “On your knees. You know what to do, slut,” 

Elliot shivers with anticipation, nodding obediently and drops to his knees. He pushes Tyrell’s hands away tentatively and replaces them with his own, glad he finally had something to do with them. After a few good strokes, Elliot grows confident from the way Tyrell thrust his hips at his slightest touch. He knew Tyrell would lose it within minutes once he finally began to suck him off and so Elliot does, taking him down like a champ, eyes watering when the head of Tyrell’s cock hits the back of his throat. 

Tyrell loved it whenever Elliot gagged around his cock; it often encouraged him to play more roughly, fucking Elliot’s throat mercilessly. And Elliot loved every second of it. Tyrell pushes Elliot’s hand away when he begins jerking off what he couldn’t fit into his mouth and says, “Move your fucking hands. I want you to take all of my fat cock in that whore mouth,” Elliot moans slightly around Tyrell’s dick, eyes shut tight as they continued to water. 

Tyrell groans loud when Elliot gags around his cock, bucking his hips lightly when he whines, tears running down his face now. Elliot pulls off of him, paying more attention to his balls then and feels Tyrell shudder above him. He was close now and Elliot couldn’t wait. He takes Tyrell back into his mouth, determined to make him come and he was just at the cusp, so close to release Elliot could nearly taste it. 

Elliot takes him all the way down, gagging with every breath and that’s when Tyrell manages to come, feeling Elliot’s throat work his cock and it’s too much for him. He pulls on Elliot’s hair, bucking his hips as he rides out his orgasm before finally catching his breath. Tyrell can’t help but grin with satisfaction when he watches Elliot stick his tongue out to show before swallowing it all. 

He pulls Elliot over to the bed, straddling him as goes in for a kiss, tasting himself on his lips and his hands trail downdowndown to Elliot’s cock, stroking him with the slightest touch. “Fuck,” Elliot whispers, having been painfully hard since they had gotten home. 

“This is what you wanted all along, hm?” Tyrell murmurs into the shell of Elliot’s ear and watches him nod desperately. 

“Yes,” He breathes, eyes shut tight. “Yes yes yes,” 

“Willing to beg for it?” 

Elliot’s eyes snap open with disbelief. There it was again. The humiliation factor. He wanted Elliot to beg like a needy slut. “What?” He hisses, eyebrows furrowed. “Tyrell, you can’t expect me to—“ 

“Oh, but you will, if you want to come,” Tyrell says, grinning maliciously. 

“But—“ Tyrell pulls off of Elliot’s cock at his protest and Elliot whines, watching as Tyrell moves off of him and picks his pants up off the floor, pulling them up his hips. Elliot’s eyes widen as it finally clicks. If he didn’t beg, Tyrell wouldn’t touch him at all. Might even leave him hard, without permission to get himself off. “Wait! Wait wait wait,” He gasps, throat sore and wrecked. 

Tyrell raises an eyebrow at him, grinning as his hands still at the zipper. “Was there something you wanted to say, Elli—“

“Please! Please sir don’t go. I need you so so bad. I need to come. Please sir, please,” He whines and Tyrell grins wider, satisfied. 

“Was that so hard, Elliot?” He taunts, eyes challenging. “All I wanted was my dirty whore to tell me how bad you wanted me,” 

Elliot moans quietly at his words, trembling with need. Tyrell had called him his. “Please,” He whimpers, more tears collecting in his eyes and he bites his lip to keep from begging. 

He sighs with relief when Tyrell nears him again, pushing himself between Elliot’s legs. He brings two fingers up to Elliot’s mouth and tells him to suck, lubing them up before Tyrell is satisfied, bringing those skillful fingers down to Elliot’s entrance. He whines at the feeling of finally being filled up, whimpering as Tyrell works to find his prostate and moans loud, jaw dropping when he finally hits it, brushing his prostate with gentle fingers. 

“More,” Elliot chokes, writhing above him. “Sir please,” He continues as Tyrell keeps with the slow pace. Tyrell knew the begging wouldn’t stop now; as soon as Tyrell finally got Elliot to beg for him, he wouldn’t stop until he finally managed to come. “I need your cock,” Elliot whines, eyes screwed shut as he grinds against Tyrell’s fingers. “Need you to fuck me, Mr. Wellick,”

“You’ve been such a naughty boy tonight,” Tyrell murmurs, sounding unamused. “I don’t think you deserve it,” 

“I’ll be good!” Elliot whines after a moment of silence. “I’ll be a good boy. I just need you to use me like a useless little—“ He gasps with surprise when Tyrell moves down to lap up the work he had done with his fingers. Elliot groans, grinding down on Tyrell’s face as he works his tongue on his entrance. “I need to come so bad,” Elliot admits and Tyrell smirks before going back to work, bringing a hand up to jerk Elliot off. “Am I allowed to come, sir?” He whispers breathlessly, trembling above him. 

“Go ahead and come, you dirty slut,” Tyrell murmurs, resurfacing to watch Elliot come, arching up off the bed and moans, high pitched and desperate as he rides out his orgasm. “Such a pretty boy,” He says as he licks the cum from his stomach and chest before moving up to miss Elliot, wanting him to taste himself on his tongue.

Elliot grins tiredly at him, eyes hooded and drugged with fatigue and Tyrell can’t help but smile all the same. “Let’s get you cleaned up and then we can go to bed. You’ve got a big day tomorrow,” What Tyrell had said was true; Elliot had a long meeting with Gideon and the rest of his superiors tomorrow morning and needed as much rest as he could get. 

“Alright,” Elliot says, voice rugged from the beating his throat had taken. He had a feeling he wouldn’t sound much better by tomorrow but doesn’t pay it much mind as Tyrell cleans him up and tucks him into bed. 

***

“What happened to you?” Elliot shifts his gaze up to Angela who stood beside his cubicle with furrowed eyebrows. 

“What do you mean?” He mutters, throat dry. Elliot had been right when he said his voice wouldn’t return quite yet but wouldn’t admit defeat. 

“You look exhausted and can barely speak,” Angela says, hands on her hips. 

“I’m just sick,” Elliot lies, unable to meet her eyes. 

“I can see your hickeys, Elliot,” Angela mumbles and Elliot’s face goes bright red, slapping his hand to his neck to hide the marks. 

“Shit,” He mutters but is unable to panic for long as Gideon walks toward him with a smile. 

“Elliot, we’re ready for you in the conference room,” 

Elliot stands, blush still present on his cheeks but nods, following behind him. If he managed to get this raise, Tyrell had promised to reward him once he got home and Elliot was determined now more than ever as he pleads his case to the full room and grins from ear to ear once the verdict was decided. Not only was he coming home with a handsome raise, he also had a handsome man ready on his bed, eager for the taking and Elliot wasn’t sure what he was more excited for.


	7. Missing Hoodie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Tyrell steals Elliot's beloved hoodie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a short smutty scene between Elliot and Shayla bc I lowkey loved them as a couple?? Shayla was my queen and was done so dirty ))-: This is also shorter than I would've liked but I tried my best.

“What the fuck,” Elliot mutters under his breath, eyebrows furrowed as he turns his apartment upside down. His hoodie was gone, though he was sure he had draped it over a chair before he had gone to bed. So where had it disappeared to?

He was already running late to work, had woken up late and when he had rushed out into the kitchen, he found Tyrell’s keys were gone, thrown on the table the night before after a drunken one night stand. For that, Elliot was grateful. He wasn’t sure if he could handle Tyrell’s shit when he was as hungover as he was. 

Elliot pulls at the sleeves of his work shirt, dissatisfied and with a frustrated sigh, pulls his father’s jacket from his coat closet. The chocolate brown colour complimented his skin but Elliot felt almost dirty wearing it. He leaves his apartment nonetheless, hopping on the train and making his way to work, burying further into the jacket which seemed to swallow him up. Gideon would without a doubt be pissed he was running late but at least he was finally following the dress code. He runs his hands through his hair, a habit as he makes it into the building, having grabbed a coffee before heading in. He was already late, so why not take his time?

“Elliot, what the hell,” Angela says with a glare when she spots him, looking slightly surprised as she takes him in, Starbucks in hand and his father’s jacket eerily familiar.

“Woke up late,” Elliot mutters under his breath, shrugging off the jacket and settles down at his computer desk. 

“You’re lucky I managed to get Gideon off your case for this long,” Angela hisses, taking a sip of his coffee but gets cut off when she tries to continue. 

“It’s only been an hour,” He sighs, booting up his computer and not meeting her gaze. “Take the rest of my coffee,” Elliot continues, gritting his teeth at the at the heavy pounding in his skull. “Do you have any aspirin?” 

That’s when Angela puts it together, Elliot’s hangover, the bags under his eyes and the hickeys he was hiding underneath the collar of his shirt. “You... You had someone over last night, didn’t you? That’s why you were late,” 

“No that’s-- That’s not why I was late,” Elliot mutters, rummaging through his desk drawer before pulling out a small bottle of aspirin and swallowing two with a sip of the coffee he had just given away. “I couldn’t find my jacket when I was getting ready this morning,” 

“Right,” She says, looking unconvinced and Elliot scowls, feeling bare without the hoodie he wore like a second skin. Angela doesn’t bother saying much else, only leaves Elliot alone until Gideon pulls him into his office and his meeting begins. 

***

Elliot had just taken a few steps down to the subway when he’s stopped by a familiar face. “Bonsoir, Elliot,” 

He furrows his eyebrows, looking confused as he eyes Tyrell up and down and says, “What did you want, Tyrell?” 

“I figured you wanted this back,” Wellick shrugs, handing over the familiar navy hoodie and Elliot simply gapes at him with surprise. 

“You took it this morning,” He points out, sounding annoyed and grits his teeth with further irritation when Tyrell nods, looking unbothered. 

“It was chilly out this morning and I was in a hurry,” 

“You can’t just go taking my things,” Elliot hisses, arms crossed over his chest, anger welling deeper in the pit of his stomach. 

“After everything we did last night that’s what you’re worried about?” Tyrell replies with the slightest grin that has Elliot bawling his fists, patience running thin. 

“Fuck off, Wellick,” Elliot snaps, taking his hoodie back with his teeth bared before heading down to the subway. Truth be told, Elliot didn’t remember much about the night before after they had gotten back to his apartment. He remembered shedding his clothes before throwing Tyrell down onto the bed, had found a used condom in the trash beside his bed and was smart enough to put two and two together but knew the one night stand wouldn’t turn into much. He wouldn’t allow it to. Being with Tyrell, being pulled into whatever he was planning was too dangerous. 

Elliot doesn’t allow himself to dwell on it as he makes his way back up to his apartment. Stewing over it wouldn’t do him much good; all it would accomplish was a raise in blood pressure and useless annoyance. Elliot wasn’t sure what Tyrell was up to and a part of him was dying to find out. 

He doesn’t give in to the temptation, only drapes the hoodie back over the chair it had once been, does two lines of morphine and settles back down on his couch beside Flipper, pupils blown wide and head swimming. After moments of laying back on the cushions, Elliot stands, brushing himself off before heading to Shayla’s apartment. He knew she was home; had heard her bumping around when he had first made it back and she answers the door quickly, brightening up when she sees him. “Elliot,” She says in her usual breathy, lax tone that has Elliot grinning wide. 

“Shayla,” He responds, following her inside. 

Elliot watches as Shayla moves over to computer desk, pulling a small baggy of pills out from one of the drawers and shakes the contents in his face. “Pure molly. You in?” She asks asks with a mischievous grin. He knew he shouldn’t, considering he had 60mgs of morphine already coursing through his system but who was he to deny free opiates? 

“Of course,” Shayla grins wider and drops a pill in his palm, along with one of her own. Once the drugs had begun to kick in, Elliot lessens the space between them, grabbing Shayla’s face in his hands and kisses her fiercely. He loved doing drugs with her, Shayla wasn’t one to back down from a challenge and Elliot was all for making her feel as good as the drugs she provided. 

“Lay down on the bed,” Elliot murmurs once they make it to her bedroom and Shayla complies without question, breathing heavy when Elliot begins stripping her from her clothes, eager. When he moves downdowndown to rid her of her underwear, Shayla could no longer hide her desperation, whining loud. 

“Elliot, please,” She begs and that was all he needed, pressing kisses to her inner thighs before working on what she wanted most. Shayla was already soaked and Elliot feels himself hardening in his boxers as he works at her clit with his tongue, fingers trailing down to her entrance and thrusting his fingers knuckle deep and making her scream. 

Tyrell wasn’t sure what he was doing here. He stood at the entrance to Elliot’s apartment, knuckles resting hesitantly on the cheap wood and freezes when he hears a woman moan Elliot’s name. It was coming from the apartment right beside his and Tyrell couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit betrayed that Elliot was fooling around with someone else. 

Tyrell grits his teeth, trying the door handle and finds it unlocked, swinging open with a simple flick of his wrist. He scans Elliot’s apartment, finds the slightest morphine residue lining his coffee table and pauses at the sight of Elliot’s hoodie once again. He can’t help but grin as he advances, taking the sweatshirt off the chair and leaves the apartment without a second thought, hoping this would teach him a lesson.


	8. Hit List

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Tyrell hacks into Elliot’s computer and finds his hit list.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really love the idea of Elliot being a hitman soo here we are with another AU. Much love and enjoy x

The blast is loud, the kickback even harsher and Elliot grimaces at the sting in his hands. Truth be told, he was surprised the gun hadn’t smacked him in the face from the impact, much stronger than he expected. 

But he couldn’t worry about that now. There was a dead man lying on his floor and Elliot had no idea how to handle it. He hadn’t had the intention on shooting anyone; he had just been sleeping when he heard someone break into his apartment. This wasn’t murder; simply self defense but Elliot couldn’t help the pooling sense of dread deep in his stomach. 

“You need to get rid of the body,” 

Elliot looks up from the intruder and finds Mr. Robot lounging on his couch, hands behind his head with a lazy smile. “Where?” He whispers, trembling. 

“Burning it will be your best bet, kid,” 

Elliot grits his teeth, blinking rapidly to keep from crying and nods slowly as he bends down to pick up the body, blood quickly coating his hands. “Take him to that veterinary clinic that Darlene knows. I’ll show you where to go. Just shove the body in a duffle bag and bring a few hundred dollars for the vet tech. That’s enough to get him to keep his mouth shut,”

Elliot nods again, words lost in his throat as he goes to work, knowing now that he could never escape from this; had felt an undeniable rush from it, a sort of addictive high. And he knew he couldn’t stop now. 

**2 years later** 

“Shit,” Elliot mutters, picking up the burner phone and running his finger along the cracks, spiderwebbed along the screen. Someone had bumped into him on his way to the subway and he had dropped it on his way down. He sends a glare to the man’s back but says nothing else, only puts up his hood and keeps walking. 

“Dar, you still there?” Elliot asks, hopping on the train and taking a seat. 

“Yeah,” Darlene says, sounding shaken. “Are you on your way here?” 

“I’ll be there in 20,” Elliot promises, voice low as he looks over the other people sitting in the rows. A woman with her child, a man speaking quietly on his phone and... Mr. Robot laying there, thoroughly content. Elliot avoids eye contact the best he can, leaving at his stop and making his way to the arcade. It was where Darlene had asked him to meet, sounding like she had been crying and begged him not to ask questions until he got there. 

When Elliot opens the back door to the arcade, the first thing he notices is the eerie screech of a chair scraping the concrete. His eyebrows furrow but he continues forward, farther into the room which was dimly lit. When he spots Darlene, he stops in his tracks, shocked to find her face to face with a man tied down to a chair. 

“Darlene, what the fuck,” He hisses, taking a few steps forward. When Elliot takes the man in, he recognizes him after a few looks over. It was Tyrell Wellick, CTO at E Corp, someone he had met a handful of times before but hadn’t felt threatened by. 

“He’s been spying on you,” Darlene snaps with annoyance. “I came to interrogate him and he said he knew you personally. I wanted to make sure that was true,” 

She pulls the gag from his mouth and Tyrell takes a few deep breaths, eyes wild as he looks the two of them over with disbelief. “Elliot--” 

“You’ve been spying on me?” Elliot asks, eyes equally as wide. 

“Not spying, exactly. Just... observing,” Tyrell mutters and Darlene kicks the edge of his chair, causing it to rock and nearly fall over. 

“You hacked into his computer, asshole,” 

“What?” Elliot’s hands shook with frustration and anger, it was hard to tell the two apart and watches Darlene nod, confirming her statement. 

“I’d come over to take Flipper out when you were gone taking care of a... client and was having a shower when I heard someone come in. By the time I came out he was gone but he left his E Corp badge here. He must’ve dropped it on his way out. But when I checked your computer, I found it was left on and your files were picked through. I don’t know what he stole or what he knows,” Darelene explains quietly yet her gaze is fierce and fueled with fury.

“I knew about the type of work you do outside of AllSafe,” Tyrell says, looking down at his lap. “I know you don’t value those who work at E Corp and I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t one of the people on your hitlist,” 

“See where that’s gotten you?” Darelene says with a raised eyebrow and despite the intensity, Elliot has to fight to keep from laughing. To a point, Elliot could understand Tyrell’s paranoia. He was one of the best hitmen in the game so he had the right to be fearful but... hacking into his computer wasn’t the smartest move. 

“So now you know who my targets are,” He says lowly. “How do I know you’ll keep your mouth shut?” Despite his calm demeanor, Elliot felt as if the world was crumbling beneath him. If Tyrell went to the authorities with the information he now possessed, he’d be screwed. 

“Because I’ve been keeping an eye on you,” Tyrell says with a shrug. “And I know you’ve been keeping an eye on me too,” 

“What--” 

“You killed Scott Knowles six months ago,” Tyrell cuts him off, shrugging the best he can with his arms behind his back. “I can’t see any other reason you would do that except for the fact that you knew he was the only thing getting in the way of me becoming the CTO at E Corp,” 

Elliot scowls, frustrated that Tyrell had gotten through to him so easily, had been quick to find his source code and use it against him. He sighs, walking closer to Tyrell, grabs a knife from his belt and cuts the ties around his wrists and ankles. “Pull something like this again and you’ll regret it,” He hisses before turning his back to him and locking eyes with Darlene. “If something like this ever happens again, just call me and I’ll take care of it,” 

Darlene nods, hugging Elliot gently before he goes back home to rehash all that had happened. He needed to do a full wipedown of his computer now. What’s done was done but that didn’t mean someone else couldn’t hack into his computer, couldn’t steal information just as Tyrell had. Elliot bends down to scratch Flipper behind the ears and says, “You need to be a better guard dog, Flip,” before turning to his computer and getting to work. 

***

“Bonsoir, Elliot,” Elliot looks up from his computer at AllSafe with surprise, fingers frozen on the keyboard, mid sentence as he raises an eyebrow at Tyrell Wellick who stood before him. 

“Tyrell,” He greets quietly, still not having moved from his seat. 

“I’d like to speak with you,” He says softly, pausing before he continues. “Alone,” 

Elliot nods, pulling Tyrell into an empty conference room and crossing his arms with distaste as soon as the door shuts. “What do you want?” He asks bitterly. 

“I wanted you to bump up one of your targets on your list for me,” Tyrell says simply and Elliot’s eyes widen with surprise. 

“You haven’t gotten rid of the files yet?” He hisses. It had been three weeks since Elliot had last seen Tyrell and figured Wellick would’ve gotten rid of the files as soon as Darlene had confronted him. “If anyone else gets their hands on them--”

“I embedded the file somewhere no one would think to look,” Tyrell says, looking nearly offended. “I’m not an idiot, Elliot,” He counters and Elliot scowls with irritation. 

“Who?” He asks finally. “Who on the list?” 

“Terry Colby. He’s been trying to pull the rug out from under my feet the moment I became the CTO. I think he might be onto me, onto the things that I’ve done,” 

“You were sloppy,” Elliot says with a shrug. “That’s not my fault,” 

“You wouldn’t have put him on your list if you hadn’t figured something like this would happen,” Tyrell says simply and Elliot sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, frustrated. 

“You can’t go making demands like this,” He snaps, eyes bright and lit with anger. “Do it again and you’ll regret it,” He says quickly before moving past Tyrell and back to his desk. 

Three days later, however, Tyrell walks into work with every television in sight broadcasting the shocking news of the murder of Terry Colby and he’s grinning all the way to his office.


	9. Road to Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Elliot has an eating disorder and Tyrell knows exactly what he’s going through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mentions of eating disorders, self harm and drug abuse. 
> 
> Note: I’ve been having a bit of a rough time lately and I figured writing it all out in fic would be helpful. I don’t know if this has happened to others with EDs but when I was at my worst I would hallucinate and would see people who weren’t really there so… ding ding ding. There’s where Mr. Robot comes in for Elliot. Much love, stay safe and enjoy x

Elliot hadn’t seen Krista in weeks. It was a poor decision, as he knew but he just... couldn’t bring himself to an appointment. Elliot already knew what she would say; “Elliot, why haven’t you been following your meal plan? Why did you buy a scale? What lead up to this relapse?” and he wasn’t in a place where he could hear those things. Elliot was perfectly content with staying cooped up in his apartment, smoking a blunt, doing lines of morphine and admiring the dwindling number on the scale. 

Though Elliot’s eating disorder wasn’t universally spoken about, both Darlene and Angela had caught on when Elliot had first been hospitalized. Though they gave him the honor of not hovering, Elliot really needed to want recovery for himself and right now he just... didn’t. 

“Hey kiddo,” 

Elliot cringes at the sound of Mr. Robot’s voice and looks up from the floor to meet his gaze, frowning at his crossed arms over his chest. “What do you want?” He asks at last.

“Just wanted to remind you to eat something,” 

Elliot scowls, not liking that idea at all and shakes his head, turning away from him and stepping off the scale. “Fuck that,” He mutters, moving past him and shrugs on his jacket, hoping that would help combat the constant chill that never seemed to go away. “I’m just going to go for a walk,” The statement was simple despite the way the room spun and Elliot’s hands had begun to tingle, on the verge of going numb. 

“What?” Mr. Robot says with furrowed eyebrows as he follows after him, that same brown jacket zipped nearly up to his chin. “Elliot, you can’t do that,” 

“Why not?” Elliot hisses sharply, sending him a glare. 

“Please,” Mr. Robot murmurs, just as Elliot reaches for the door handle. 

Elliot spins to face him, frustrated now and says, “Fine! You want me to eat something? I’ll fucking eat something,” He spits, walking back into his apartment and opening the fridge and cabinets, grabbing armfuls of food and settling down on the couch. He opens each container with care but doesn’t treat it that way when he digs in, making a mess of crumbs with each food. It was all junk and he regretted it as soon as he finished, staring down at the mess he made, disgusted. 

“What are you doing?” Mr. Robot asks as Elliot walks over to his bathroom without a word. 

“Getting rid of it,” He says simply before shutting the bathroom room, bowing in front of the toilet and sticks his fingers down his throat until he gets sick. He drinks a cup of water, then one more before he forces himself to empty the rest of his stomach and when he looks into the toilet, finds a small amount of blood against the vomit. “Shit,” He whispers, black dots dancing across his vision. He feels his hands go numb, legs following soon after before everything goes black. 

*** 

“Bulimia nervosa. Although he does restrict from time to time,” Elliot wakes to the sound of Darlene’s voice and when he finally opens his eyes, finds her speaking with a doctor not far from him. 

He was in a hospital room, he could tell from the bright lights and plain walls before he takes in the IV in one arm and heart monitor on the other. “Darlene,” He whispers and it’s then that his sister finally looks over at him. 

“Elliot,” She gasps, moving over to him. “Shit, I’m so glad you’re awake,” She squeezes his hand with a sort of gentleness that has his heart aching. Whenever you were having one of your episodes, I’d let you hold my hand. And as long as you could feel my hand, everything was real. He could feel her hand now, soft and soothing against his own. This, he knew, was real too.

He doesn’t bother asking what happened, knowing perfectly well why he was here, dressed in a hospital gown with a bracelet around his wrists, loose against the dantiness. “I’d suggest you get admitted to our eating disorder unit here on the third floor of the hospital, Mr. Alderson,” 

Elliot’s eyes widen at the doctor before him and he shakes his head wildly, denial running hot in his veins. “No,” He says instantly. “I’ve done this before and it didn’t work for me. I don’t need it. I don’t need this,” Elliot sits up and with his free hand, pulls the IV from his other arm, watching as Darlene gasps with disbelief. 

“Elliot--” 

“You want me to go, don’t you? You don’t want to have to deal with me. With what I’m doing. You--” 

“I don’t want to see you dead, Elliot!” Darlene screeches, desperate to get through to him now. “If you continue how you are... you’re going to die,” 

Elliot shudders at the thought of it, although the idea was somewhat comforting. He didn’t want recovery. Did that mean he wanted death instead? “I would recommend you go inpatient,” The doctor says regardless and Elliot scowls in his direction. 

“I don’t give a shit what you recommend,” He spits, narrowing his eyes. “I’m getting the hell out of here,” 

“Elliot, please,” Darlene whispers, tears welling in her eyes. “You can’t die. You’re all I have left. Please. Please do this for me,” 

Elliot shuts his eyes, thoughts swimming wildly. Was it worth it? All the hard work, all the restricting, bingeing and purging, all the weight loss and discomfort that came along with it? If he did this for Darlene, all that progress would be for shit. “Fine,” He whispers. “I’ll... I’ll do it,” 

When Elliot opens his eyes, he finds relief swimming in Darlene’s and she squeezes his hand, grip strong but comforting in his own. He’d done this all before, the treatment, the meal plans, the therapy. It wasn’t new to him and yet... he was terrified. “Can you call Krista for me? Tell her I’m here and I’m alright,” 

“Of course,” Darlene whispers, pulling him into a hug, just as tight as the grip she’d had on his hand. “I love you so much, Elliot. Thank you,” 

“I love you too,” Elliot murmurs into her jacket. “I’ll call you when I’m allowed visitors. Don’t tell Angela. Not yet. I know she’ll have a panic attack if she knows before I can see her,” 

Darlene grimaces at the thought of keeping such secrets from their childhood friend but nods, going along with Elliot’s wish. “Alright,” She says at last. “I’ll see you soon, okay?” 

Elliot nods, giving her a final hug before the doctor informs her that Elliot would have to be taken up to the unit as soon as possible. As soon as she leaves, the panic begins to set in. He was doing this again. Gaining more weight, not being able to purge, being on a 72 hour watch until they decided he was safe with himself. The thought alone makes him grimace but he allows himself to be taken up to the unit and assessed by a nurse. 

“We need to do an assessment on you, Mr. Alderson. You can keep your boxers on but we need to check for any bruising or cuts, self mutilation scars or... injection sites. Elliot nods, not liking the sound of that already but allows it, undoing the hospital gown and lets her look. She scribbles down on a notepad what she sees, scars on his calves and thighs, injection sites on his arms, scarring on his knuckles from the purging, eroding enamel from stomach acid, collarbones worthy of sipping wine, ribs broadcast like piano keys. Elliot didn’t realize he was in such a condition until he’s being looked over. 

He didn’t like it one bit. 

“Alright,” The nurse says at last. “We need to get in contact with your current dietitian before we can get you on a weight restoration meal plan. We’ll...” Elliot blocks everything out after that. It was final, now. He would be set up with a therapist, dietitian and psychiatrist and already knew that he would be drained the first few days, just from the mental and physical stress.

He gets pulled into a different room, speaking with the admissions counselor and fills out more paperwork before he’s again, whisked away to another room, finally able to meet the other patients he would be working with for the next few weeks, not quite sure if he could make it through. 

***

Three weeks later, Elliot is discharged from inpatient care and bumped down into the partial hospitalization program. It felt about the same, the same therapist, dietitian and psychiatrist but he would only be staying for eight hours before going home. He would never admit it but Elliot was the slightest bit intimidated of finally being allowed to go. 

The drugs had left his system the first three days of his stay and it was the worst of his life. Withdrawal symptoms were horrible and morphine was a real bitch. If he did any sort of drugs and they found it in his weekly blood work he would be discharged from the hospital and placed elsewhere so when he goes home and Shayla offers up pure molly, he begrudgingly turns it down. He wasn’t able to return back to AllSafe yet but Angela had filled out his medical leave paperwork while he was inpatient and he figured it was only fitting to pay her a visit. 

He takes the train to her place, a large house much unlike his small apartment on a bad side of town and he greeted by his childhood friend not long after he knocks. “Hey,” He murmurs, barely able to meet her gaze. “I’m glad you’re home. I just... thought I’d pay you a visit,” Elliot’s tone is nearly shy but it doesn’t bother Angela at all, pulling Elliot into the tightest hug both of them could bear. 

“Shit, Elliot I’m so glad you’re okay. I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to visit more often than I did but I just--” 

Elliot was by far okay but he would try his best to be and he shakes his head, pulling away from her. “No big deal. Darlene and Dom stopped by a few times a week so I wasn’t lonely. I kicked their asses at rummy,” 

Angela laughs, pulling him inside and settles down into the living room. “I’m glad. Did you... make any friends?” 

“Not friends, exactly but I found a few people that I can bear to be around,” Elliot says with the slightest smile. “Missed you guys, though. I even miss working,” He admits with an amused laugh. “Never thought I’d say that,” 

“We’ve all missed you too. Gideon is really worried,” Angela admits, bouncing her knee in the same anxious way she had since childhood. “He’s the only other person who knows. I couldn’t work my way around it in the paperwork. I’m sorry,” 

Elliot shakes his head, knowing he could trust Gideon despite not being fond of the idea of more people knowing. He could trust him, he knew that and yet anxiety of his own spikes in Elliot’s veins. “Oh,” He mumbles. “I guess that’s fine. It’s not like the whole company knows. What else have I missed?” 

“E Corp is working more closely with us,” Angela says, sounding agitated. “Terry Colby is a real prick. A complete moron. You’d hate him if you ever met him so you’re lucky you’ve never had the pleasure,” Angela continues with a roll of her eyes. 

“Glad I’ve missed it, then,” Elliot says, smiling wider now. “How are you, really?” 

“I’m... hanging in there. Ollie is being a real ass, too. He can be such an idiot sometimes,” She groans and Elliot laughs wholeheartedly now, knowing exactly how much of an asshole he could be. He wouldn’t tell her to find someone new, though. Ollie was stupid--those were the type Angela seemed to attract and something he quickly found out with an effortless hack into his social media files--but Elliot wasn’t sure if he could handle who Angela might pick up next if she broke up with him. 

“Hopefully he’ll come to his senses,” Elliot shrugs. “I start partial tomorrow,” He mumbles into his hands. “I’m a little nervous about it. They say if I do any drugs they’ll discharge me and send me somewhere else so... could you come with me back to my apartment to flush my...” Elliot trails off, unable to finish and feeling incredibly shameful. Despite Angela knowing he did certain drugs, he didn’t like speaking of it. 

“Of course,” Angela says instantly. “Let’s go,” She pulls on Elliot’s hand, locking the door behind them as they go and walk quickly to the subway, taking the stairs leisurely despite Elliot’s anxiety. He wanted to prolong this as soon as he could. Getting rid of his opiates was terrifying to him. They were his crutch when things go tough--weren’t they always?--and he wasn’t sure he could imagine himself without them. 

Once they finally make it to his apartment, Elliot walks inside feeling somewhat alienated in the space. He had been gone for so long not being there the apartment almost didn’t feel like his own. Nothing had been moved; the rolling tray filled with weed and rolling papers and bottle of morphine still sat on his coffee table, wrappers from his last binge still laid haphazardly on his couch and he figured his bathroom was still the same from the smell of vomit coming in it’s direction. “Fuck,” He mutters, somewhat embarrassed. “I’ll be right back,” Elliot walks over to his bathroom and flushes the toilet without looking, chest feeling tight at the thought of what he had done the last time he had been here. 

When Elliot came back to the living room, he found Angela had already begun cleaning up the living room, not seeming bothered by the mess. It was a facade, something to make him feel less embarrassed since he knew full well that Angela hated when Elliot let his apartment get this bad. His hands shook as he holds the bottle of morphine, the plastic container feeling heavy in his hands with the pills inside. “Let’s do this before I change my mind,” Elliot mutters and Angela follows as he walks into the bathroom again and dumps the pills in without looking, heart racing as he flushes it once again, not able to watch his only coping mechanism go down the drain. 

“There,” Angela says with faux cheeriness. “All done. You want to get out of here? Go watch a movie at mine? You still have a few favorites over there,” 

Elliot nods, not able to look up from the tiled floor and follows her out of his apartment. “Can I sleep over at yours tonight?” He asks as the train doors close behind them and Angela nods instantly. 

“Of course. Whenever you want,” 

When they make it back to Angela’s, Elliot is displeased to find Ollie’s car in her driveway. He was the last person he wanted to see right now but he follows Angela inside nonetheless. “Hey, man!” Ollie says when he spots him. “You look so much better! A lot healthier,” 

Healthier. Didn’t he mean fat? Elliot cringes at the thought, his comment not helping he anxiety clawing up his throat and he offers a sloppy smile before he says, “I’ll be right back,” and walks right back out of her house. It’s when he presses himself against the sturdy brick outside that he lets himself break down. He’s hyperventilating as he calls Darlene and she picks up on the second ring, confused as she greets him. 

“Hey Elliot. You okay?” 

“No,” Elliot admits softly. “I’m at Angela’s and Ollie was there. He made some stupid comment and I can’t-- She told him, Dar,” He whispers, tears finally escaping and he sobs, unable to believe it. Ever since Elliot got diagnosed Angela had sworn not to tell anyone. She had finally broken that promise, invaded that trust and burnt it to the ground. 

“It’s gonna be okay, E,” Darlene says gently. “Do you want me to come over? I can knock Ollie in his shit if he tries anything,” 

Elliot laughs sadly before nodding despite her not being able to see. “Yeah,” He murmurs. “I’d like that,” 

“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” She promises. “Go back inside, it’s pretty cold. Just... try not to let him get to you. If he tries anything else just let me know. I love you,” 

“I love you too,” Elliot whispers before they end the call and he makes it back inside. When Angela spots him, eyes red and irritated, she frowns and doesn’t comment until he says, “You told him,” words dark and sad, betrayed. 

“Elliot--” 

“That was the one thing I asked of you since the beginning. You can tell him whatever fucked up shit you have going on but this was my secret. It was something I should be able to tell people, when and where and people that I trust. I thought I could trust you but apparently not,” His words are sharp, made to hurt her and he can tell it does, just from the sadness in her eyes. Angela was one of the good ones and she had finally done him wrong. 

“I was scared,” Angela says, voice harder than he had been expecting. “I thought I was going to lose you. I figured I could confide in my boyfriend for that,” 

Elliot pulls down his hood and runs his hand through his hair, frustrated. “You don’t understand,” He mutters, not meeting her gaze. “I’m less hurt by the fact that Ollie knows and more upset that you betrayed me. You knew it was wrong to tell and you did it anyway,” 

“Elliot, I’m sorry,” Angela whispers and Elliot shrugs. 

“I don’t believe you,” He says simply before there’s a knock on the door. Darlene. She was finally here. Elliot answers the door before Angela can, hugging her tightly, comforted by the security of it. 

“Oh, hey,” Angela says surprised. 

“I hope you don’t mind me coming over. I just wanted to see Elliot and keep your... boy toy under control,” The words hold a sort of venom that has Angela flinching back but she allows her in. 

“We were just about to start a movie. You in?” 

“As long as there’s snacks,” Darlene says with a laugh before making herself comfortable on the couch, propping her feet on the coffee table, something she knew Angela hated. It was something so Darlene Elliot can’t help but smile. 

***

“Hey, uh, I’m here for my first day in PHP for the uh, eating disorder unit,” Elliot says softly as he greets the receptionist, the first face he sees as he walks through the automatic double doors. 

The man smiles brightly at him and Elliot takes in the name on the tag pinned to his shirt. Tyrell. He was handsome, that was something Elliot couldn’t deny and he simply watches as Tyrell nods, smile never faltering. “Sounds good. I’ll tell one of the nurses you’re here so they can take weights and vitals,” 

Elliot nods but hesitates on his way to the elevator. “I’m scared,” He admits at last. “Last time I was in treatment I went AMA once I was discharged and never did the lower level treatment programs,” 

“Other patients have found it helpful. It helps you transition back into the outside world pretty seamlessly. It’s an odd adjustment at first but you’ll get into the swing of things pretty quickly,” Tyrell promises. 

“You sound like you know from experience,” Elliot observes with furrowed eyebrows. 

“My wife had an eating disorder,” 

“Oh, so she’s recovered now?” Elliot can’t help but ask, intrigued. 

“No, she passed last year,” Tyrell says with a sad smile. “Had a heart attack in her sleep,” 

Elliot’s eyes widen at the news, sorrowful. “Oh shit, I’m so sorry,” 

Tyrell shrugs, having heard it a thousand times before saying, “I let the nurse know you’re here. They’re ready for you to head up,” 

Elliot nods at the dismissal and offers a slight wave before heading into the elevator and up to the third floor. 

This goes on for three months. Elliot gets closer with Tyrell before subtle flirting ensues and soon enough, Elliot is getting discharged. When he walks to the double doors, he stops at Tyrell’s desk and takes a final deep breath, mustering up the courage before he says, “Did you... want to see a movie or something sometime?” 

Tyrell smiles wide, nodding. “I was wondering when you were going to ask,” 

“Today is my last day. Figured it wouldn’t be good for your record to be going on dates with patients. Figured I’d save you that worry,” Elliot laughs, wringing his hands anxiously. 

“Well... now that you’re no longer a patient I think it’s only necessary,” Tyrell grins. “How does Thursday sound? That’s my next off day,” 

Elliot can’t hold back his smile any longer and he nods, liking the sound of that. “Sounds good. Here’s my number. You can text me if you want. We can figure out the small details later,” 

He hands over a slip of paper, his number scrawled inside with shaky hands and offers Tyrell a final smile before leaving the hospital, feeling more inspired than he had in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEDA helpline: (800) 931-2237 
> 
> If phone calls aren’t for you, you can go to the NEDA website and talk with someone online instead.


	10. Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Elliot doesn't sleep because of nightmares and Tyrell is curious why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mentions of sexual abuse 
> 
> Ooh this was a rollercoaster since I've been doing trauma work with my therapist yikes. Stay safe, much love, and enjoy x

"You should get some sleep," It was a suggestion but Elliot scowls in Tyrell's direction, not liking the idea.

"It's fine." Elliot mutters, still looking down at his computer. "I haven’t been up for that long anyway,"

“Elliot,” Tyrell murmurs with a frown. “You’ve been up for nearly 36 hours. Is there... a reason you don’t want to sleep?” 

“No,” Elliot mutters, not meeting his gaze. Elliot wouldn’t tell Tyrell about the nightmares. He couldn’t. 

_The room was warm but Elliot isn’t comfortable, not with the icy chill of dread pooling in his stomach as he sits on his bed, perfectly calm as he locks eyes with Mr. Robot as he saunters into the room. He hadn’t taken it out yet but Elliot knew he hid a gun in the pocket of his jacket._

_“It’s funny,” Mr. Robot says with a smirk. “This idea of control that you have. It’s all an illusion,”_

_He pulls out the gun, then and Elliot stays perfectly still, not sure how to act. There was no way he could get himself out of this and each time he tried to speak, words failed him. Mr. Robot points the eye of the gun to the center of Elliot’s forehead and Elliot doesn’t so much as blink as he pulls the trigger._

Elliot had this dream many times before and it was the exact reason why he wasn’t sleeping. He didn’t want to wake up to a panic attack, breathing heavy with watery eyes. Tyrell couldn’t know that. Elliot couldn’t show him that he wasn’t nearly as strong as everyone thought he was.

“Please,” Tyrell begs. “Please just get some sleep. Just a few hours. I’m... I’m worried about you, Elliot,”

Elliot’s heart warms at his words, blush following not long after and he turns to power down his computer, if only to keep from looking at him. “Fine,” He says at last. “Just wake me up in four hours,” His words are sluggish, weighed down with fatigue but he doesn’t move until Tyrell promises as much, walking to his room and falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. 

***

_“Go,” Elliot whispers, taking Darlene by the hand and leading her into the closet. “Now be quiet. He can’t know you’re in here. No matter what happens, don’t move. Promise me,”_

_“I promise,” Darlene says hesitantly and Elliot swallows thickly, heart racing wildly in his chest, squeezing her hand gently before closing the closet double doors._

_Young Elliot’s hands shook harshly now with the loss of Darlene’s hand against his own, sweat collecting at the base of his palms but he doesn’t falter, feeling as if he was rooted to the floor as the door handle jiggles and their father walks inside. “Elliot,” He says with a grin. “I’ve been looking all over for you. Where have you been?”_

_“I was at Angela’s but I left because she had chores,” This was true though Elliot wished it wasn’t. He wanted nothing more than to be back at hers, watching cartoons and eating Mrs. Moss’ homemade cookies. He was safe there. Here, he wasn’t._

_“Well I’m glad you’re home. Where’s your sister?”_

_Elliot’s eyes shift over to the closet where Darlene hid and forces his voice steady as he says, “She went to the store with mom. I just didn’t want to go,”_

_It was a believable lie and Edward buys it, nodding as he walks toward him. “I’m glad you decided to stay because I need your help with something,”_

_Edward motions down to the slight bulge in his jeans and Elliot shakes his head, eyes wide as he takes a few steps backward, hoping to put more space between them but stops short when he bumps into the windowsill. “No,” Elliot gasps, pulling his hoodie tighter around him, his safety blanket. “I’m not doing that,”_

_“Please, Elliot. I’m not feeling well today. I’m in a lot of pain and need some help,”_

_Elliot shudders with horror at what his father was suggesting, tears collecting in his eyes. This couldn’t happen. Not again. His gaze shifts down from Edward’s to the handle of the aluminum bat poking out from underneath his bed and with a final deep breath, snatches it up from the floor as Edward begins to undo his belt. “Don’t get any closer,” Elliot yelps, bat trembling in his shaky hands._

_“Elliot,” Edward murmurs with surprise. “You wouldn’t hurt me, would you?”_

_Elliot shuts his eyes when his father steps closer and swings the bat into his ribs with as much force as he could manage. It wasn’t much but enough to slow him down. His father was blocking the exit and Elliot knew if he didn’t get out now, Edward would make him endure much worse than originally planned so he goes with the only option he has left: swinging the bat against the window, shattering it and jumps from the two stories up before everything goes black._

Elliot wakes with a start, breathing heavy and chest on fire. He sits up in bed, tearing off the sheets and takes in his surroundings. He was alone in his bedroom to his apartment. He was safe and yet he felt anything but. He curls in on himself, knees pulled to his chest and shuts his eyes tight but the images only reappear, worsening his anxiety. Elliot needed a distraction, something to make it all go away. 

He gets up from his bed, searching through his bedside drawer for the bottle of morphine he had left only to find it empty. Elliot runs his hands through his hair, anxiety rushing through his veins and sits back down on the bed, head between his knees trying to breathe as deeply as he can manage. How did Darlene come down from bad panic attacks like this? He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t think of much at all, really. All but the dream he had. That, he remembered too clearly. 

“Elliot, it’s been four h-- shit, are you okay?” Tyrell walks into the room, looking worried as he takes a step closer onto the mattress and Elliot flinches away from his touch. 

“Don’t-- Don’t touch me,” He whimpers. “Get Darlene for me, please,” 

Tyrell nods though the confusion on his face is undeniable. He reaches for Elliot’s phone off the bedside table beside the empty bottle of morphine and does just as Elliot had requested and when Darlene picks up, she’s instantly suspicious of Tyrell’s voice on the other end. “You need to come by Elliot’s apartment,” Tyrell says quickly. “He’s having a panic attack, I think. He won’t let me touch him,” 

“Shit,” Darlene mutters. “Alright, I’m not far from his place. Give me ten minutes. I’ll probably be there in less than that. Get him a glass of water and don’t touch him again. That’ll only make things worse,” She hangs up the phone before Tyrell can reply and he gets up, telling Elliot exactly what he was doing before he disappears. 

Elliot sobs into his hands, incredibly loud in the empty room, feeling as if he were going to die. He’d never had a panic attack as intense as this. He felt as if the world was going to end if this didn’t stop. And maybe that was for the best. 

When Tyrell comes back with the glass of water, he holds it out for him but Elliot doesn’t take it, doesn’t bother looking up from where he stayed stationed with his head between his knees. “Is she coming?” He asks though gasps, voice much softer than his ragged breathing. 

“She’ll be here in less than ten minutes,” Tyrell promises. “Just try to drink this glass of water. It should help,” He urges him and Elliot shakes his head. He didn’t need water. He needed to breathe. He need all of this to go away. 

Tyrell felt completely helpless since that was exactly what he was. There was nothing he could do for Elliot since he didn’t want anything from him. All he could do now was wait for Darlene to arrive. Once she does, she storms into the apartment, walks into Elliot’s room and sits down on the bed beside him, pushing Tyrell to the side. “Elliot,” Darlene murmurs. “You’re okay, I promise. Here, hold my hand. As long as you feel that you know everything is real, remember?” Her voice is soft and Elliot looks up at her with teary eyes, taking her hand in his and squeezes to the point of pain but Darlene doesn’t pull away. 

“I... I feel his hands all over me,” Elliot whimpers, sobbing through harsh breaths. “I can’t do this. I feel like I’m gonna die. I can’t— I can’t—” He struggles, squeezing her hand again and Darlene could feel just how much he was trembling. 

“You’re okay. You’re safe now, Elliot. I promise. He’s gone and you don’t need to worry anymore,” 

Elliot wipes his eyes with his free hand, nodding as his breathing begins to even out. “I’m sorry,” He mumbles. “I just... I just dreamt about the window and I haven’t thought about that in a long time,” 

Darlene freezes from her place on the bed beside him. She had tried shielding him from that trauma the best she could, despite having relived the memory many times herself. Darlene couldn’t watch her brother break apart like this but she also couldn’t control his dreams, couldn’t block out the bad memories or protect him like Mr. Robot could. “I’m sorry, Elliot. I wish there was more that I could do,” She admits, frowning and only then does Elliot look up at her, seemingly much calmer than when she had first arrived. 

“You’ve done everything perfectly,” He whispers, squeezing her hand again. “Thank you,” Elliot pauses, thinking before he sighs shakily and says, “Sorry I had you come over so suddenly. I--” 

“Don't apologize,” Darlene says instantly. “You have nothing to apologize for. That’s what I’m here for. We gotta stick together. We’re all we’ve got now,” 

Elliot nods and pulls her in for a hug, hoping she could put his broken pieces back together. “I love you,” Elliot says finally and Darlene smiles a half smile, glad he was feeling better but worried it wouldn’t last long. 

“I love you too,” 

It’s then that they both notice Tyrell’s presence once again, Wellick standing in the doorway simply looking in. He felt out of place, just watching them, watching Elliot fall apart and Darlene molding him back, steady. Despite being much calmer, Elliot looked a wreck. His eyes were red and puffy, skin lacking its usual colour and hands still shaking despite coming down. Tyrell can’t help but frown. 

“Care to smoke a bowl with me?” Elliot whispers in Darlene’s direction, choosing to ignore him, hoping to push away the embarrassment and Darlene nods with a small grin. 

“I’ll grab it,” She says, getting up from the bed and when she leaves the room, Tyrell is close to follow. “Hmm, you down to smoke with us, pretty boy?” Darlene chuckles and Tyrell rolls his eyes, not quite sure what he was feeling. Too much, maybe. 

“What’s going on? What happened to him?” 

“He had a panic attack,” Darlene mutters as she sits on the couch and begins rolling a blunt. “You’re the one who told me that so why are you asking questions?” 

“I mean... what was he talking about? The window? What—“ 

Darlene has avoided looking at him but at his words, she can’t help it, sending him a glare. She gets up from the couch and pushes him up against the wall by his shirt collar, angry. “Don’t you dare say anything about it to him. It’s none of your business,” 

She lets him go, taking a step back before sitting back down on the couch. “I’m sorry,” Tyrell mutters as he watches her seal the wrap, frowning. “I’m just worried about him. I... care for him,” 

Darlene knew it was more than that but she wasn’t willing to open that can of worms so she shrugs instead, standing with the blunt between her lips and motions for Tyrell to follow. She lights it as she walks back to Elliot’s room, finding him turning the empty bottle of morphine in his hands. “Hey,” She says softly. “You okay?” 

“Fine,” Elliot murmurs, taking the blunt from her after she takes a few drags. “Thanks,” He pats the bed for Darlene to sit and so she does, taking the blunt when he passes it back over. “You can sit too, Tyrell,” He mumbles, looking up to find him standing in the doorway. 

Tyrell hesitantly walks over, taking the spot at his other side and when Darlene passes the blunt to him, he takes it hesitantly. “Go on,” She says with a malicious grin. “Try it, pretty boy,” 

Elliot snorts with amusement at the name and they both watch as Tyrell takes a small hit. Both Aldersons’ watch him with interest, unable to help it. They had never seen Tyrell get high before so this would be an experience for him. 

“How do you feel?” Elliot asks halfway through the blunt. 

“Really good,” Tyrell laughs. “You?” 

“Better,” Elliot nods, blinking slowly. He could feel the high behind his eyes, a sort of heaviness that made him want nothing more than to sleep. But he couldn’t. Not now. Not after that. So instead, he stays wide awake, turns on a movie and spends the rest of the night with Darlene and Tyrell, despite the circumstances wanting nothing else.


End file.
